The 


Barnes  Tamilv 


A  SMILE  ON  EVERY  PAGE 


BY 

FLORENCE  S.  CRAIG 


1910 

THE  NEUNER  COMPANY  PRESS 
Los  Angeles 


BY  FLORENCE  S.  CRAIG 
Copyrighted  1910 


(Tilts'  little  ston> 

is  lobinglp  oebicateb 

to  tijr  sciiool  cfjtlbren  of  America 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE 

Who  has  not  heard  of  "The  Barnes  Family?"  All 
of  us  know  them,  if  we  will  just  think  a  moment.  They 
may  live  across  the  street  from  you,  or  just  around  the 
corner. 

What  little  boy  who  reads  these  pages  has  not  a 
friend  like  Willie  or  Johnny  Barnes — and  what  little 
girl  does  not  know  a  Tildy  or  a  Minnie? 

And  poor  Mrs.  Barnes,  worn  out  little  mother,  you 
may  hear  her  any  day  from  your  own  front  porch,  call 
ing  out  to  her  runaway  children. 

Oh  yes,  we  all  know  Mrs.  Barnes  and  her  family. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  RUNAWAYS 

"Spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child,"  said  Solomon. 
"Give  him  a  capsule,"  says  Mrs.  Barnes. 

"Johnny!  Oh  Johnny!  Johnny  Barn-es-es-s-s !" 
called  the  little  woman  standing  in  the  kitchen  doorway, 
shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand. 

No  answer  coming,  Mrs.  Barnes  turned  disconsol 
ately  back  into  the  kitchen,  muttering  to  herself,  "I  wish 
I  could  give  Johnny  a  capsule  every  morning  that  would 
keep  him  out  of  mischief  all  day.  It  seems  to  me  that 
in  this  age  of  patent  medicines  there  ought  to  be  some 
thing  discovered  that  would  make  children  mind." 

Walking  over  to  the  stove,  she  began  to  stir  some 
fruit  that  was  boiling  in  a  kettle. 

"I  see  Johnny  climbing  over  Bob  Dale's  fence,"  cried 
Tildy,  her  eldest  daughter. 

"Didn't  I  tell  him  I  would  whip  him  if  he  went  over 
there  again !  I'll  just  have  to  wear  him  out." 

"It  don't  do  any  good  to  tell  him,"  said  Tildy,  phil 
osophically,  as  she  stepped  out  of  doors  to  give  some 
scraps  to  the  dog. 

"Ma,  oh  Ma !  Willie's  pumping  water  in  his  new 
straw  hat !"  she  called  back. 

"Whatever  am  I  to  do !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Barnes, 
sinking  down  on  a  chair  and  wiping  her  damp  hands 
on  her  apron.  "All  this  fruit  to  put  up,  and  the  children 
a  running  me  wild." 


g  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

"The  baby's  woke  up,  I  hear  him  crying,"  said  Tildy 
as  she  entered  the  house. 

"Let  him  cry — it's  good  for  him,"  said  Mrs.  Barnes 
desperately,  still  stirring  the  boiling  fruit.  Suddenly  she 
threw  up  her  hands  with  the  dripping  spoon  and  ex 
claimed,  "Where's  Minnie?" 

Tildy,  who  had  started  to  get  the  baby,  paused  with 
her  hand  on  the  door,  a  startled  look  coming  into  her  face, 
"Why,  I  haven't  seen  her  since  dinner." 

"She's  run  off,  of  course,  and  there's  no  telling  where 
she's  gone  to.  Do  something,  Tildy!  Tell  Willie  to 
run  over  to  Mrs.  Nash's  and  see  if  she's  there ;  and  I'll 
get  the  baby — and  if  he  don't  find  her  there,  to  go  on 
down  to  Mrs.  Cole's — and  not  to  come  back  till  he  gets 
her." 

After  these  incoherent  directions,  Mrs.  Barnes  hur 
ried  to  the  assistance  of  the  crying  baby,  while  Tildy 
went  to  call  the  erring  Willie,  who  was  just  emptying 
the  last  drop  of  water  from  his  new  hat. 

"Willie !  Willie !  Ma  says  you  are  to  go  to  Mrs. 
Nash's  and  Mrs.  Cole's  and  hunt  Minnie — she's  run  off — 
and  not  come  home  till  you  get  her." 

Willie,  nothing  loath  to  take  a  trip  himself,  put  the 
wet  hat  on  his  curly  head  and  started  in  quest  of  his 
sister. 

Tildy,  re-entering  the  kitchen,  advanced  toward  the 
stove  where  the  raspberries  were  boiling,  ready  to  be 
canned. 

"Tildy,"  came  her  mother's  voice  in  a  sort  of  a  chorus 
with  the  baby's  crying,  "turn  that  fire  out  under  the 
berries.  I  believe  the  baby's  got  the  colic  or  swallowed 
something.  He's  a-gagging  and  crying  dreadful." 

Tildy  lost  no  time  in  going  to  her  mother's  assist- 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  9 

ance  where  the  baby  was  screaming  at  the  top  of  its 
voice,  its  fists  doubled  tight,  its  eyes  closed,  and  appar 
ently  breathing  with  difficulty. 

"Let's  shake  him !"  cried  Tildy,  frightened. 

They  shook  him  and  turned  him  this  way  and  that, 
and  upside  down,  and  stood  him  on  his  head,  and  held 
him  by  his  heels,  and  beat  him  on  the  back — and  still 
he  cried  and  struggled,  though  rather  faint  and  weak. 

"There's  something  dreadful  the  matter  with  him. 
It  can't  be  colic !  I  believe  he's  turning  purple,"  cried 
Mrs.  Barnes,  holding  him  up  high  in  her  arms  to  give 
him  a  chance  for  breath. 

"Look,  ma,  look!  It's  that  string  around  his  neck, 
got  pulled  tight.  Johnny  tied  it  on  him  this  morning." 

"Where's  the  scissors?  Get  'em  quick,  it'll  choke 
him  to  death,"  cried  Mrs.  Barnes. 

Tildy  had  a  great  time  finding  the  scissors,  but 
finally  the  string  was  cut  and  the  baby  speedily  re 
covered. 

"Poor  little  thing,"  said  his  mother,  "I  guess  Johnny 
tied  that  string  around  his  neck  with  the  button  on  it 
for  him  to  play  with.  Now,  Tildy,  we'll  see  what  we 
can  do  with  the  fruit.  Set  the  baby  in  his  highchair 
and  give  him  a  biscuit.  Dear,  dear !  the  evening's  half 
gone  and  I've  done  nothing  yet." 

"Hadn't  I  better  wash  the  dinner  dishes,  ma?  It 
won't  be  long  till  supper  time." 

"I  expect  you  had,  and  after  that  you  can  spread 
up  the  beds — I  left  'em  to  air." 

Mrs.  Barnes  worked  with  the  fruit  and  watched  the 
baby,  not  realizing  how  time  was  flying  until  the  recreant 
Johnny  made  his  appearance. 

"Johnny  Barnes,  aren't  you  ashamed  to  look  me  in 


JO  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

the  face,  when  I  told  you  not  to  go  out  of  the  yard 
again  ?" 

"Well,  I  forgot,  and  Bob  called  me—" 

"Oh  yes,  you  have  to  obey  Bob ;  you  run  right  along 
when  Bob  calls  you,  but  when  I  want  you,  you  can't  be 
found." 

"I-I'm  sorry — "  Johnny  shuffled  uneasily  from  one 
foot  to  the  other,  and  picked  his  fingers  nervously,  "I'll 
try  to  remember,  but — where's  Willie?"  adroitly  chang 
ing  the  subject. 

"Willie — law  me!"  and  the  unhappy  mother  raised 
her  preserving  spoon  in  the  air  and  gasped. 

"Tildy,  Tildy, — what's  become  of  them  children?  I 
forgot  all  about  'em." 

The  eldest  daughter  came  into  the  room,  saying, 
"They  ought  to  be  here  by  this  time.  Send  Johnny  after 
them." 

"Well !"  eyeing  the  boy  over  hurriedly.  "Johnny 
ought  to  have  a  whipping  if  I  keep  my  word — but  I 
haven't  time  to  whip  him  now.  So  let  him  go  and  get  the 
children.  I'll  try  to  remember  it  before  bed-time." 

"Where  are  they  at?"  asked  Johnny,  looking  some 
what  relieved,  and  yet  a  little  anxious. 

"How  do  I  know?  Go  to  Mrs.  Nash's  first,  and  then 
Mrs.  Cole's — Tildy!  Tildy!  the  baby's  choking  again. 
See  what  he's  got  in  his  mouth !" 

Tildy  rushed  toward  the  gagging  infant  and  ex 
tracted  from  his  mouth  a  white  marble  she  had  given 
him  to  play  with. 

"There  now,  don't  give  him  any  more  marbles  or 
anything  else  he  can  choke  on.  It  looks  like  he's  bound 
to  choke  before  the  day  is  ended.  I  never  had  such  a 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  11 

time.  If  anything  happens  to  the  children,  your  father 
always  blames  me,  and  I'm  just  as  careful  as  can  be." 

Johnny,  having  taken  his  departure,  Mrs.  Barnes 
again  turned  her  attention  to  the  fruit,  while  Tildy  saun 
tered  out  into  the  back  yard  with  the  baby. 

The  sun  was  getting  low  as  the  weary  housewife 
put  away  her  last  jar  of  berries,  and  stepping  to  the 
kitchen  door,  saw  her  daughter  Tildy,  her  one  solace, 
comfort  and  help,  softly  crooning  the  baby  to  sleep. 

"Sh,  sh,"  putting  up  her  hand  in  warning,  lest  her 
mother  should  wake  the  child. 

"Wait,  I'll  fix  his  crib,"  said  Mrs.  Barnes,  stepping 
softly  in  front  of  the  little  nurse  as  she  carried  her  charge 
into  the  house. 

"Isn't  he  sweet?"  whispered  Tildy,  looking  lovingly 
down  upon  her  baby  brother  as  he  lay  asleep  on  his 
pillow. 

"I  believe  he's  the  prettiest  child  I've  got,"  said  Mrs. 
Barnes  adoringly,  without  any  thought  of  the  child  she 
was  addressing. 

"No,  Minnie's  the  prettiest,"  said  Tildy. 

Minnie!  oh  where  is  she?  Where  are  they  all — 
all  the  children?"  wailed  Mrs.  Barnes,  a  flood  of  recol 
lection  coming  over  her.  "They're  all  gone  !" 

"Why  ma,  where  can  they  be?  I'll  go  after  them," 
said  Tildy ;  and  scarcely  waiting  for  an  answer  from  her 
bewildered  mother,  she  snatched  her  sunbonnet  and  left 
the  house. 

"There's  no  use  in  worrying,  I  know  Tildy'll  find 
them,  and  I'd  just  as  well  get  supper,"  mused  Mrs. 
Barnes,  philosophically. 

Meanwhile  Tildy  was  running  down  the  sidewalk 
toward  the  home  of  Mrs.  Nash,  her  bonnet  well  over  her 


12  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

eyes,  intent  over  the  object  of  her  journey,  and  not 
observing,  ran  against  a  man  who  was  coming  toward 
her. 

"Hi,  Tildy,  excuse  me!  What's  the  matter  now? 
What's  your  hurry?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Howard — the  children  have  all  run  off, 
all  but  the  baby!" 

"Well,"  quizzically,  "and  you  seem  to  be  running 
off  too." 

"I'm — I'm  going  after  them.  Have  you  seen  any  of 
them  anywhere?" 

"Not  a  one,  but  I'll  look  out  for  the  baby  as  I 
go  by." 

Mr.  Howard  was  a  neighbor,  who  knew  the  peculiar 
ities  of  the  Barnes  children  and  was  often  entertained 
by  their  remarkable  escapades.  When  an  unusual  com 
motion  was  heard  in  the  street,  when  the  chickens  were 
squawking  or  dogs  barking,  "It's  the  Barnes  children," 
his  wife  would  say,  and  think  no  more  about  it. 

But  sometimes  matters  would  reach  such  a  crisis  as 
to  demand  investigation ;  for  instance,  when  Willie  got 
into  the  cow-lot  and  the  yearling  calf  ran  him  around 
and  butted  at  him  until  he  got  caught  between  two 
planks  in  the  fence,  as  he  tried  to  make  his  escape. 
On  another  occasion,  Mrs.  Howard's  nerves  had  received 
quite  a  shock  by  hearing  a  most  strange  and  unearthly 
noise  close  by  her  bed-room  window.  It  was  something 
between  a  warwhoop  and  a  gurgle,  and  repeated  several 
times.  Afraid  to  put  her  head  out  of  the  window,  she 
rushed  around  the  house  and  saw  Johnny  Barnes  stand 
ing  in  a  listening  attitude  with  his  hands  to  his  mouth 
like  a  horn.  "What  on  earth  are  you  doing,  Johnny 
Barnes?"  she  asked. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  13 

"It's  a  call,  I'm  a  calling  Bob  Dale.  That's  the  way 
we  call." 

As  Tildy  neared  the  Nash  residence,  she  neither  saw 
nor  heard  anything  of  the  children.  Approaching  the 
open  door  of  the  house,  she  saw  Mrs.  Nash  sitting  by  the 
window,  sewing  in  hand. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Nash,  have  you  seen  anything  of  the 
children?  They're  all  gone!"  exclaimed  Tildy. 

"Minnie  was  here  early  in  the  afternoon  and  I  sup 
posed  she  had  gone  home  till  Willie  and  Johnny  came 
after  her." 

"But  where  are  they — where  do  you  suppose  they 
are?"  broke  in  Tildy  hurriedly. 

"They're  probably  over  to  Mrs.  Dale's,  playing  with 
the  children." 

Without  waiting  to  parley  further,  the  child  started 
down  the  street  almost  on  a  run.  She  expected  to  hear 
shouting  and  laughing  as  she  neared  the  Dale  premises, 
but  again  she  was  disappointed.  The  front  door  was 
closed  and  there  was  no  sign  of  the  family  being  at  home. 
Nevertheless  she  knocked  loudly  and  stood  hopelessly 
waiting.  Finally  she  went  around  to  the  back  porch  and 
found  all  closed  up  there. 

"Of  course  they're  not  here,"  she  murmured  to  her 
self,  "but  where  can  they  be?  I  don't  believe  they'd  go 
anywhere  else.  I  might  try  Mrs.  Baker's,  but  I  don't 
see  how  Minnie  could  ever  find  her  way  over  there — 
and  what's  become  of  Willie  and  Johnny?" 

Tildy  was  becoming  alarmed. 

It  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  Mrs.  Baker's,  who 
lived  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  but  the  anxious  child 
lost  little  time  in  making  the  distance;  the  thought  of 


14  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

the  night  coming  on  and  the  children  lost,  lent  wings 
to  her  feet. 

Long  before  she  reached  Mrs.  Baker's  yard,  she 
strained  her  eyes  to  see  if  there  were  children  in  it, 
but  as  before,  was  doomed  to  disappointment.  The 
house  door  was  also  closed,  there  was  no  sound  about 
the  place — her  heart  sank. 

"There  is  no  use  looking  in  the  back  yard,  but  I'll 
try  it  anyway,"  she  thought. 

Around  the  house  she  walked,  out  toward  the  stable, 
down  through  the  orchard,  but  no  sign  of  the  children. 

"Whatever  am  I  to  do?"  she  said,  using  her  mother's 
expression ;  and  in  desperation  she  raised  her  voice  and 
cried  as  loud  as  she  could. 

"Johnny!    Willie!     Minnie!" 

No  answer.  Again  she  called,  louder  than  before, 
thinking  they  might  be  in  the  timber  by  the  river  that 
ran  not  far  from  that  place. 

And  then  the  thought  of  the  river  terrified  her.  It 
was  a  small  but  treacherous  stream  that  ran  not  far  from 
the  town. 

"Johnny!  Johnny!  Johnny!"  she  called  again,  run 
ning  into  the  road  and  starting  toward  the  river. 

She  was  so  much  excited  she  did  not  see  a  lady  ap 
proaching  till  she  heard — 

"Tildy !     Tildy !" 

Gasping  for  breath,  the  girl  stopped. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Baker,  is  that  you?  Where's  the  chil 
dren?  I'm  hunting  them.  Do  you  know  anything  about 
them?" 

"Why,  no,  I've  been  away  all  afternoon,  and  left 
Harry  and  Carrie  to  keep  house.  Aren't  they  home?" 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  15 

"No,  nobody's  there — and  I've  called  and  called — 
and  maybe  they've  gone  to  the  river." 

Mrs.  Baker's  face  took  on  an  anxious  expression. 

"I'm  afraid  they  have.  They  found  an  old  leaky 
skiff  down  by  the  creek  yesterday,  and  they  may  have 
gone  there  to  play.  They  begged  to  go  this  morning." 

The  creek  was  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
house;  further  on  down  it  emptied  into  the  river. 

Without  more  ado  they  both  started  in  that  direc 
tion.  Tildy  relating  on  the  way  how  Minnie  happened 
to  run  off,  and  Johnny  and  Willie  were  sent  after  her. 

"They  may  not  be  there,  Mrs.  Baker,"  said  Tildy, 
"and  what  will  I  do  if  they  are  not?" 

"Hush,  child,  you'll  find  them  somewhere.  I  cau 
tioned  my  children  to  stay  about  the  house,  never  dream 
ing  they  would  go  down  to  that  old  skiff  when  I  was 
away — but  as  you  say,  they  may  not  be  there." 

Just  as  they  reached  the  timber,  the  sound  of  child 
ish  voices  reached  them. 

"They're  there!"  cried  Tildy.  "Oh,  if  they're  just 
not  drowned !" 

"They're  not  drowned,  or  they  wouldn't  be  hollowing 
like  that,"  said  Mrs.  Baker,  increasing  her  pace. 

Then  the  sight  of  the  children  came  before  them  in 
the  dim  light  of  the  after  sunset;  three  of  them  seated 
in  the  old  skiff,  two  hauling  it  down-stream.  Little 
Minnie  had  begun  to  cry,  but  the  rest  were  shouting 
with  laughter. 

"Harry  Baker !"  called  the  irate  mother. 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice  the  shouting  ceased,  and 
all  the  little  faces,  full  of  consternation  and  dismay,  not 
to  say  fear,  were  turned  toward  them.  The  two  boys 


16  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

stopped  towing  the  boat,  and  all  were  silent,  except 
little  Minnie,  who  still  cried  feebly. 

"Oh,  Johnny,"  cried  Tildy,  rushing  to  the  water's 
edge,  "why  didn't  you  bring  the  children  home  ?  Mother'll 
be  scared  to  death." 

Johnny  made  no  answer,  but  hauled  the  boat  to 
shore,  where  the  children  scrambled  out,  forgetting  in 
their  haste  all  about  Minnie  till  Tildy  called  them  to  carry 
her. 

"Oh  Tildy — I's  glad  'oo  turn.  I  fraid  of  water," 
cried  Minnie,  hiding  her  face  in  her  sister's  skirts. 

"Harry  and  Carrie  Baker,  didn't  I  tell  you  to  stay 
around  the  house  till  I  came  home?" 

No  answer  was  given,  but  two  little  heads  hung 
very  low,  and  the  party  of  condemned  looking  children 
turned  their  reluctant  steps  homeward. 

Little  Minnie  cried  as  the  darkness  came  on,  and 
Johnny  and  Tildy  took  turn  about  carrying  her. 

"Whatever  made  you  boys  go  down  there?"  asked 
Tildy,  putting  Minnie  down  so  she  could  rest  and  breathe 
a  bit. 

"Well,  I  went  to  Mrs.  Nash's,  and  she  said  she 
sposed  Willie  an'  Minnie  wuz  at  Mrs.  Cole's,  an'  I  went 
there,  an'  they  wuzn't  nobody  to  home,  an'  then  I  thought 
I'd  go  to  Mrs.  Baker's,  an'  there  they  wuz  just  startin' 
down  to  see  the  skiff,  an'  I  went  along— an'  an'—" 

"There's  Pa  now,  coming  to  hunt  us,"  said  Tildy, 
as  a  tall  man,  dressed  in  laboring  clothes,  came  suddenly 
into  view,  and  back  of  him  a  few  yards,  was  Mrs.  Barnes 
carrying  the  baby. 

"What's  the  matter?  Where  have  you  been?"  he 
cried,  reaching  out  his  arms  to  Minnie,  who  gave  a  glad 
cry  and  hugged  him  close. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  17 

Just  then  Mr.  Howard,  who  had  heard  of  the  trouble, 
and  started  out  as  one  of  a  searching  party,  arrived  upon 
the  scene. 

"Rounded  'em  all  up,  have  you?  Where  did  you 
find  'em,  Tildy?"  he  asked. 

"Down  at  the  creek  in  the  skiff,"  she  replied,  and 
then  followed  explanations  on  the  homeward  way. 

"And  to  think  I  sent  one  child  after  another  till 
they  were  all  gone,  and  me  and  the  baby  had  to  go  and 
hunt  them,"  observed  Mrs.  Barnes  to  nobody  in  par 
ticular. 

"It  was  certainly  a  case  of  the  whole  family,"  said 
Mr.  Howard,  as  he  courteously  opened  the  Barnes  gate 
for  the  procession  to  pass  through;  but  Johnny  and 
Willie  hung  back. 

"Aren't  you  going  in?"  asked  Mr.  Howard. 

"They'd  better  come  in,"  said  Pa  Barnes. 

"I  owe  Johnny  two  now,"  sighed  Ma  Barnes. 

"Be  sure  and  say  your  prayers  tonight,  boys,"  called 
back  Mr.  Howard,  as  he  wended  his  way  to  his  domicile 
next  door. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  BABY 

Another  baby  Barnes  had  arrived  in  the  home  nest. 
not  that  the  nest  was  very  spacious  or  well  feathered — 
not  that  Mrs.  Barnes  needed  another  baby,  or  had  time 
or  talent  to  devote  to  it;  but  there  it  was,  not  to  be 
denied,  as  fine  and  healthy  an  infant  as  if  it  had  been  the 
only  heir  of  a  millionaire. 

Tildy  adored  it.  Her  little  mother  heart  was  big 
enough  for  the  whole  family,  no  matter  how  much  it 
multiplied,  and  her  childish  feet  never  grew  weary  of 
waiting  on  her  mother  and  running  down  the  other 
children. 

Of  course  they  had  a  hired  girl,  or  rather  a  hired 
maiden  lady,  who  said  she  would  come  and  look  after 
the  children  and  cook,  but  of  course  she  couldn't  be 
expected  to  nurse  a  case  of  that  kind.  So  Mrs.  Howard 
came  over  every  day  and  washed  and  dressed  the  baby, 
and  made  Mrs.  Barnes  comfortable. 

Miss  Abbie  Dobbs  had  lived  in  the  little  town  so 
long  and  worked  in  so  many  families  that  she  seemed 
to  belong  to  the  place  as  a  sort  of  public  charge.  When 
any  one  was  sick  or  extra  help  needed  for  an  extra 
occasion,  "Send  for  Miss  Abbie,"  was  the  cry.  And  so 
she  was  passed  around  from  place  to  place,  working  for 
small  wages  and  giving  indifferent  service,  not  being 
skilled  in  any  way.  Her  age  was  an  uncertainty  that 
no  one  dared  to  speak  about.  In  appearance  she  was 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  19 

lean  and  lank;  her  hair  was  sprinkled  with  gray  and 
worn  in  a  knot  at  the  back  of  her  head.  She  was  low- 
spirited,  good  hearted  and  faithful,  but  slow.  She  had 
to  rise  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  in  order  to  get  Mr. 
Barnes'  breakfast  ready  by  six. 

"Ma,  I  can't  find  Minnie's  stocking,  and  Willie  won't 
button  his  shoes,"  said  Tildy  one  morning  while  Mrs. 
Barnes  was  still  convalescent,  and  her  eldest  child  was 
trying  to  get  the  younger  ones  dressed  for  breakfast. 

"Children,  what  in  the  world  ails  you  this  morning? 
You've  been  an  hour  trying  to  dress,  I  do  believe,  and 
the  baby,"  here  she  checked  herself,  "I  mean  little  Teddy 
— we  must  stop  calling  him  the  baby  now — will  wake 
up  in  a  few  minutes  and  then  Tildy  can't  take  him 
unless  you  are  ready  for  breakfast." 

"The  biscuits  are  getting  cold,"  said  Miss  Abbie, 
poking  her  head  in  at  the  door,  as  a  gentle  reminder 
that  she  was  tired  of  waiting  breakfast  for  them,  the 
father  having  gone  to  his  work  an  hour  ago. 

"Yes,  we're  coming,  Miss  Abbie,"  said  Tildy;  but 
just  then  Teddy  awoke  and  raised  a  battle  cry. 

"There  now,  Tildy,  I  told  you  so,"  said  her  parent. 

"I'll  take  him,  Mrs.  Barnes,"  said  Miss  Abbie,  "I'm 
not  handy  with  children,  but  I  can  make  out  with  'em 
once  in  a  while.  Are  these  his  clothes?"  taking  up  a 
little  bundle  of  small  wear  that  lay  on  a  chair. 

Teddy  was  not  familiar  with  Miss  Abbie,  and  con 
tinued  to  cry  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"It  seems  like  I  can't  get  his  arms  in  the  sleeves, 
he  stiffens  and  crooks  'em  up  so — and  oh,  he's  kicking 
and  clawing  me !" 

Teddy  was  literally  clawing  and  pounding  Miss 
Abbie's  face,  with  his  plump  fists. 


JO  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

••\Yhatever  will  you  do  with  him?  Call  Tildy,  you 
can't  dress  him,"  cried  the  distracted  mother. 

"No,  let  Tildy  eat  her  breakfast.    I've  got  his  sleeve 

OK  BOW," 

Finally  the  warlike  Teddy  calmed  down  sufficiently 
to  be  dressed  and  placed  in  his  high-chair,  where  he  was 
given  a  little  tin  dish  of  oatmeal,  which  he  began  to  eat 
with  a  spoon,  and  ended  by  feeding  himself  with  his 
hands  and  turning  the  plate  over  his  head. 

Those  were  busy  daj7s  at  the  Barnes  home  and  TUdy 
had  to  be  kept  ont  of  school  for  two  weeks, 

*I  do  believe  the  children  would  run  me  wild  and 
get  burnt  up,  if  it  wasn't  for  Tildy,"  said  Mrs,  Barnes, 
adding,  "Miss  Abbie  is  good,  but  she's  so  stow." 

la  time  the  mother  was  able  to  be  about  and  resume 
her  household  duties;  that  is,  in  part,  for  Miss  Abbie 
still  remained  for  her  keep,  not  having  any  other  place 
offered  her.  She  really  made  herself  very  useful,  develop 
ing  surprising  ability  in  the  care  and  managemer: 
ti»e  children,  for  a  person  "who  was  not  handy  with  'em," 
as  she  expressed  it.  Teddy  was  the  only  one  who  resisted 
her  overtures,  and  he  was  very  excusable,  considering  that 
lie  little  nose  was  out  of  joint,  and  he  had  so  recently 
resigned  his  right  of  babyhood  and  his  place  in  bed. 

Minnie  followed  Miss  Abbie  about,  regarding 
with  real  affection,  often  climbing  up  into  her  lap  and 
"picking  Ac  wrinkles  out  of  her  face,"  as  she  termed  it. 

**AVhat  makes  'oo  cry?"  she  asked  one  day,  glancing 
np  «t  Miss  Abbie  when  she  happened  to  be  in  one  of 
her  Icm-spirited  moods. 

*<0fc  boney,  Tm  just  lone  and  lorn," 

"TOnl's  that?    Who  made  yon  that?"  she  seemed 
:hink  someone  was  to  blame  for  it. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  21 

"Nobody,  that's  what's  the  matter — there's  nobody, 
nobody  cares." 

"Nobody,"  the  child  looked  at  her  wonderingly, 
"why,  there's  somebody,  they's  me,"  and  understanding 
through  intuition,  not  reason,  the  child  laid  her  little 
plump  cheek  upon  Miss  Abbie's  withered  neck,  and  the 
two  sat  there  in  each  other's  arms,  in  mute  sympathy. 

About  this  time  they  all  took  the  measles;  and  the 
Barnes  home  was  turned  into  a  temporary  hospital. 
First  one,  then  another  came  down  with  it.  It  was 
then  that  Miss  Abbie  proved  her  usefulness.  Her  never 
ending  patience  and  slow  faithfulness  came  in  very  oppor 
tunely.  It  was  quite  four  weeks  before  the  children  were 
back  in  school ;  and  they  had  hardly  gotten  well  estab 
lished  in  their  lessons  when  wrhooping-cough  again  as 
signed  them  to  the  house. 

''Whatever  is  to  become  of  us,  I  don't  know,"  said 
Mrs.  Barnes.  "First  it's  the  baby,  then  the  measles  and 
then  the  whooping-cough." 

"But  it  might  be  worse,  ma,"  observed  Tildy,  who 
never  forgot  her  blessings. 

"Yes,  it  might  be  wrorse,  and  it  might  be  better,  and 
the  baby  seems  to  have  the  colic  the  whole  enduring 
time." 

"Johnny  is  out  playing  in  the  snow,"  called  out  Miss 
Abbie,  poking  her  head  in  at  the  sitting  room  door. 

"And  him  a  coughing  his  head  off  every  night.  Call 
him  in  here,  Miss  Abbie!  I've  just  got  to  wear  him 
out." 

"Johnny  Barnes,  do  you  w*ant  to  die  with  the  whoop 
ing-cough?"  asked  his  mother,  as  he  came  into  the  house 
a  moment  afterwards. 

Johnny  didn't  say  whether  he'd  like  to  go  with  that 


22  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

disease  or  some  other,  but  he  kicked  the  snow  off  his 
shoes  on  the  carpet,  and  had  to  sit  in  a  corner  back  of  the 
stove  for  half  an  hour,  as  an  act  of  penance. 

Willie,  meantime,  had  busied  himself  making  a  train 
of  cars  out  of  the  dining-room  chairs.  They  were  turned 
down  on  the  floor,  the  legs  and  backs  tied  together,  and 
Minnie  perched  on  top  as  a  passenger. 

"Puff,  Puff!  Puff!"  cried  Willie,  trying  to  pull  the 
whole  train  across  the  floor,  and  then  he  had  to  stop 
and  cough  a  while,  Minnie  joining  in,  and  little  Teddy, 
who  had  just  woke  up  and  toddled  into  the  room,  also 
began  to  cough — it  was  a  dreadful  chorus. 

"Dear,  dear,  just  listen  to  the  children  cough !"  ex 
claimed  Mrs.  Barnes.  "They've  all  got  to  take  some 
horehound  syrup.  I  forgot  to  give  it  to  'em  this 
morning." 

She  believed  in  simple,  old  fashioned  remedies  and 
had  brewed  some  very  bitter  tea,  thickening  it  with  su 
gar,  as  soon  as  their  malady  developed. 

"Miss  Abbie,  bring  me  that  can  of  syrup  off  the 
kitchen  shelf.  Here  Johnny,  come  out  of  that  corner  and 
drink  this  horehound,  and  be  a  good  boy  the  rest  of  the 
day,  or  I'll  have  to  wear  you  out." 

Johnny  did  as  he  was  told,  making  a  very  wry  face 
at  swallowing,  but  it  took  considerable  coaxing  and 
threatening  to  get  the  dose  down  the  others,  little  Ted 
resisting  with  all  his  might. 

Presently  the  chair  cars  were  running  again  on 
schedule  time,  Johnny  as  engineer,  Willie,  conductor,  and 
Minnie  and  Teddy,  passengers. 

Mrs.  Barnes,  who  had  taken  the  sleeping  babe  to 
her  family  bedroom  and  closed  the  door,  heard  very  little 
of  the  noise  until  her  attention  was  attracted  by  an 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  23 

awful  shriek  from  Teddy,  who  had  fallen  off  the  back  car 
and  nearly  broken  his  nose. 

"What's  the  matter?  Who  hurt  him?"  cried  Mrs. 
Barnes,  appearing  on  the  scene  at  that  moment. 

"He  ain't  hurt  much;  he  just  rolled  off  the  chair." 

But  Teddy  strangled  and  coughed  for  about  five 
minutes  before  his  mother  got  him  quieted.  Meantime 
the  cars  began  running  again  but  with  rather  subdued 
puffing. 

'Tuff!  Puff!  Puff!"  went  Johnny. 

"Choo  !  Choo  !  Choo  !"  went  Willie.  Then  forgetting 
his  caution,  he  gave  a  shrill  whistle. 

But  that  was  his  last  one.  His  mother's  hand  came 
forcibly  across  his  mouth. 

"Stop  that  noise !  You'll  wake  the  baby.  Untie 
those  chairs  and  stand  them  up  straight.  I've  a  notion 
to  whip  every  one  of  you.  It's  dreadful  to  have  you 
bottled  up  in  a  house  like  this." 

"You  won't  let  us  go  out  of  doors,"  ventured  Johnny. 

"Don't  talk  back  at  me,  Johnny  Barnes ;  whatever 
I'm  to  do  with  you  children  I  don't  know.  I'll  just 
have  to  turn  you  over  to  your  father." 

But  finally  the  whooping-cough  became  a  thing  of 
the  past,  the  children  returned  to  school,  and  the  warm, 
bright  days  began  to  whisper  of  spring. 

And  then  after  all  these  strenuous  times,  Mrs. 
Barnes  suddenly  remembered  that  the  baby  had  never 
been  christened.  Being  so  busy,  so  occupied  with  other 
things,  they  had  hardly  thought  of  giving  it  a  name, 
always  referring  to  it  as  "the  baby." 

All  of  her  other  children  had  been  properly  and  care 
fully  christened,  the  event  being  recognized  by  a  dinner, 


24  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

when  all  the  available  relatives  assembled  and  celebrated 
the  occasion. 

Tildy  was  the  only  child  who  hadn't  been  named 
after  a  noted  person,  either  historical  or  mythological. 
Matilda  Ann  was  named  after  Mrs.  Barnes'  mother. 
John  Wesley,  in  honor  of  the  noted  divine,  William  C. 
was  for  William  the  Conqueror,  and  Minerva  repre 
sented  the  Goddess  of  Wisdom,  while  Teddy  overstepped 
them  all  when  he  was  christened  Theodore  Roosevelt. 

Now  came  the  question, — what  should  they  name 
the  baby? 

For  a  week  Mrs.  Barnes  poured  over  books,  eagerly 
scanned  the  newspapers  and  racked  her  brains  with 
Christian  names  till  she  could  scarcely  sleep,  and  even 
dreamed  about  it  one  night. 

"Dorothy,  Dora,  Violet,  Margaret,  Mary,  Rose, 
Pansy,  Ruth,  Ru-Ra-Ri — "  shrieked  Mrs.  Barnes,  beating 
the  bed  clothes. 

"Wake  up !  wake  up !  You're  dreaming."  Mr. 
Barnes  shook  his  wife,  who  awoke  suddenly  and  sat 
upright  in  bed. 

"Where's  the  baby?    I've  named  her." 

"What  have  you  named  her?" 

"Dorothy,  Dora,  Violet — Ruth — oh,  I — don't  know — 
what  it  was." 

"Of  course  you  don't.    You've  been  dreaming!" 

And  so  the  baby's  name  hung  in  the  balance  for 
several  days,  till  one  bright  morning  when  Mrs.  Barnes 
read  a  newspaper  article  about  the  charities  and  great 
kindliness  of  Helen  Gould. 

"That's  it— that's  her  name,"  said  she,  rising  from 
her  chair  so  suddenly  that  Helen  Gould  almost  fell  out 
of  her  lap. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  25 

"Miss  Abbie!  Oh  Miss  Abbie!  I've  named  the 
baby !" 

Miss  Abbie  came  running  in. 

"Oh,  have  you?  Bless  its  little  soul — what's  its 
name?" 

"Helen  Gould.  She's  one  of  the  finest  women  in 
the  world.  I  hope  the  baby  will  be  just  like  her." 

"And  rich  too.  I  hope  she'll  be  rich  too,"  broke  in 
Miss  Abbie,  "and  not  poor — lone  and  lorn — like  me." 

"I  hope  she'll  be  good,  whatever  she  is — oh,  Miss 
Abbie,  we'll  have  a  christening  dinner  and  invite  in  all 
her  kin.  We  always  do,  you  know,  with  all  the  chil 
dren." 

"When  will  you  have  it?" 

"Tomorrow — no,  day  after  tomorrow.  We'll  have  to 
cook  tomorrow  and  send  out  the  invitations." 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  CHRISTENING 

The  Barnes  residence  was  not  elegant  nor  spacious, 
but  it  was  fairly  comfortable. 

There  were  two  good  living  rooms  and  a  sort  of 
lean-to,  containing  a  small  bedroom  and  a  kitchen.  The 
yard  was  quite  large,  land  being  cheap  in  that  locality. 
There  was  a  garden  spot  and  a  cow  lot.  Several  fruit 
trees  and  a  grape  arbor  graced  the  back  yard,  while  a 
real  cedar  tree  and  a  lilac  bush  grew  near  the  front 
gate. 

Mr.  Barnes  had  labored  long  and  wrought  mightily 
to  accumulate  all  of  this  and  provide  for  his  growing 
family. 

The  morning  of  the  christening  dawned  bright  and 
balmy.  Mrs.  Barnes  and  Miss  Abbie  were  astir  at  four 
o'clock,  and  with  their  united  efforts  succeeded  in  getting 
thing  in  a  very  tangled  condition  by  breakfast  time. 

"Is  breakfast  ready?"  asked  Mr.  Barnes,  looking  du 
biously  at  the  table,  as  he  came  in  from  milking. 

"Ready  long  ago,  just  keeping  it  warm  on  the  stove." 

Mrs.  Barnes  stooped  down  and  opened  the  oven  door. 
"Law  me,  Abbie,  the  biscuits  are  burnt  up!" 

"Biscuits  burnt  up!"  echoed  she,  "and  there  ain't 
no  lightbread." 

"Whatever  shall  I  do !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Barnes,  sink 
ing  down  on  a  chair  and  breathing  hard. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  27 

"There's  oatmeal,"  suggested  Miss  Abbie,  "and  cold 
potatoes — maybe  he  could  eat  that  with  his  meat." 

"Anything,  just  so  I  can  get  to  work  on  time,"  said 
Mr.  Barnes,  who  had  gone  through  similar  experiences. 

"Oh  dear,  dear — to  think  I  let  the  bread  burn  up, 
and  I  will  have  to  cook  more  for  the  children,  and  so 
much  to  do.  Poor  Andrew,  I  couldn't  bear  to  give  him 
such  a  breakfast  if  I  didn't  know  he  would  have  a  good 
dinner.  Andrew !"  calling  after  him  at  the  door,  "do 
try  and  get  home  early.  Remember  they  will  all  be 
here." 

The  confusion  that  reigned  on  the  premises  for  the 
next  few  hours  was  indescribable. 

"Tilly,  you  and  Johnny  go  over  to  Mrs.  Dale's  and 
borrow  some  of  her  dining  room  chairs.  Just  hist  'em 
over  the  fence  out  there,  and  Miss  Abbie'll  take  'em. 
Hurry  up,  too.  It's  nearly  school  time." 

Finally  the  three  eldest  children  were  started  to 
school,  the  three  youngest  washed  and  dressed,  the  house 
was  spick  and  span,  the  dinner  well  on  its  way — Mrs. 
Barnes  began  to  breathe  easily. 

"It's  about  time  some  of  'em  was  here,"  she  ob 
served,  looking  at  the  clock.  As  if  in  answer  to  her 
words,  Mrs.  Barnes'  sister  and  her  two  daughters  ap 
peared  at  the  gate,  while  a  few  rods  behind  them  came 
her  husband's  nephew  and  niece. 

"How-de-do,  Myranda  and  Mary  and  Alice.  I 
thought  it  was  about  time  you  was  coming,  and  here 
comes  Jane  and  Philip.  Give  me  your  bonnet  and  hats. 
Better  lay  your  gloves  on  the  mantel  out  of  the  children's 
reach.  Dear,  dear,  I'm  so  glad  it's  a  pretty  day." 

She  was  talking  to  all  at  the  same  time  and  giving 
them  a  hearty  welcome  in  her  breezy,  cheery  way. 


28  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

"And  why  didn't  your  mother  come,  Philip?" 

"She  and  Uncle  Joseph  will  be  here  before  long." 

"Uncle  Joseph!  you  don't  mean  he's  here!" 

"Yes,  he  came  last  night." 

"Well,  well,  I  haven't  seen  him  for  ten  years.  Does 
he  look  pretty  old?" 

"Rather  oldish.  Been  wandering  around  consider 
able." 

"It's  a  pity  he  don't  settle  down  at  his  age." 

"Yes,  he  needs  somebody  to  look  after  him,  but 
he's  so  timid  he  can  hardly  speak  to  any  one." 

At  this  point  the  baby,  who  was  crowing  and  laugh 
ing  in  her  crib,  was  snatched  up  by  her  Aunt  Myranda, 
while  little  Teddy  stood  with  his  finger  in  his  mouth 
behind  the  bed,  positively  refusing  to  cultivate  any  of  his 
relatives.  Minnie  was  already  on  her  Cousin  Philip's 
knee,  telling  him  about  the  baby's  name. 

Mrs.  Barnes  took  advantage  of  this  opportunity  to 
escape  to  the  kitchen  and  see  how  the  dinner  was  com 
ing  on. 

"Abbie,  have  you  tried  the  hen?  Do  you  think  she's 
getting  tender?" 

"Yes  ma'am,  I've  just  stuck  her  with  a  fork,  and  she's 
nearly  done." 

"And  the  sweet  potatoes,  are  they  baking?" 

"Just  fine.  Didn't  you  say  we  would  have  to  borrow 
some  of  Mrs.  Howard's  soup  plates?" 

"That's  so,  and  I  do  believe  we'll  have  to  have 
some  more  table  spoons." 

"Must  I  take  a  basket?" 

"Yes,  take  the  basket,  and  you'd  better  bring  a  few 
more  sauce  dishes  and  half  a  dozen  napkins.  Climb  over 
the  back  fence.  Don't  let  anybody  see  you." 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  29 

Miss  Abbie  did  as  she  was  told.  The  back  fence 
was  high,  but  she  got  over  with  surprising  alacrity — 
that  was,  going  over  with  the  empty  basket.  Coming 
back  it  was  different;  so  after  an  ineffectual  attempt  to 
climb  over  with  a  basket  full  of  dishes,  she  concluded 
to  go  nearer  the  front  yard  where  the  fence  was  not 
so  high. 

Her  sunbonnet  was  well  over  her  face,  and  probably 
she  couldn't  see  good.  Anyway,  her  foot  slipped,  her 
dress  caught  on  a  nail,  and  basket,  dishes  and  all  came 
clattering  to  the  ground — and  there  she  hung.  She 
couldn't  loosen  her  dress  and  she  couldn't  reach  the 
ground.  The  broken  dishes  scared  her  and  she  began  to 
cry,  and  say,  "whatever  shall  I  do" — when  lo !  a  man 
stood  before  her — an  oldish  kind  of  a  man  who  looked 
scared  himself. 

.    "Oh,  sir,  what  shall  I  do?"  cried  Miss  Abbie,  making 
another  frantic  effort  to  free  herself. 

He  didn't  speak,  but  reaching  over  the  fence  where 
her  dress  was  held  by  a  nail,  he  freed  her  so  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  that  she  fell  on  the  basket  among  the 
dishes,  making  an  awful  clatter  and  finishing  up  the 
wreckage. 

By  this  time  the  attention  of  those  in  the  house 
had  been  attracted  and  the  whole  party  came  out,  be 
holding  Miss  Abbie  among  the  ruins. 

"Why,  Abbie  Dobbs,  whatever  is  the  matter  with 
you?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Barnes,  viewing  the  scene  in 
consternation. 

"I  got  caught  on  the  fence,"  explained  Miss  Abbie, 
wringing  her  hands,  the  tears  running  down  her  face. 

"Well,  well,  don't  cry  about  it,"  said  the  old  man 
who  had  rescued  her. 


30  THE  BARN-ES  FAMILY 

"But  I'm  so  unlucky,"  wailed  she,  "everything  I  do 
is  unlucky,"  and  pulling  her  bonnet  over  her  face,  she 
ran  into  the  kitchen,  while  the  guests  helped  Mrs.  Barnes 
pick  up  the  broken  china. 

Only  about  half  a  dozen  pieces  were  broken  after 
all. 

"Don't  cry  about  it,"  said  Mrs.  Barnes,  finding  Miss 
Abbie  in  the  little  lean-to  bedroom  still  bathed  in  tears. 

"Oh,  whatever  is  the  matter  with  me?  I'm  so  lone 
and  lorn  and  unlucky,"  she  wailed. 

"Don't  think  about  that  now,  come  and  help  me 
with  the  dinner.  Only  a  few  sauce  dishes  were  broken. 
I'll  buy  Mrs.  Howard  some  more." 

Swallowing  her  sobs,  Miss  Abbie  returned  to  her 
neglected  dinner,  where  happily  nothing  had  gone  amiss. 
Presently  everything  was  in  readiness,  and  a  very  sump 
tuous  and  plentiful  repast  was  spread  on  the  board. 
Boiled  chicken  and  dumplings,  roast  pork  and  sweet  pota 
toes,  Irish  potatoes  creamed  to  a  feathery  flakiness,  corn 
pudding,  macaroni  stewed  with  cheese,  cranberry  jelly, 
raspberry  jam,  with  dessert  of  mince  pie  and  chocolate 
cake. 

The  children,  being  in  a  hurry  to  get  back  to  school, 
were  allowed  to  eat  at  the  first  table  with  the  grown-ups, 
and  did  ample  justice  to  the  meal.  Their  manners  were 
fairly  good,  except  that  Johnny  asked  for  two  pieces  of 
pie  and  was  detected  by  his  mother  snatching  a  second 
piece  of  cake  as  he  left  the  table. 

It  was  a  very  long,  loud  and  merry  meal,  and  just 
at  its  close,  little  Helen  Gould  was  held  up  in  her  father's 
arms,  her  name  being  officially  announced  and  pro 
nounced  to  the  guests,  and  all  drank  a  glass  of  lemon 
ade  in  her  honor,  wishing  her  long  life  and  happiness. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  31 

Miss  Abbie  and  Tildy  waited  on  the  table  till  time 
for  the  dessert  and  then,  as  some  of  the  dishes  had  to  be 
washed,  Mrs.  Barnes  went  to  the  kitchen  to  assist. 

"Who  is  that  old  man  in  there  that  helped  me  off 
the  fence?"  asked  Miss  Abbie. 

"Why,  didn't  I  tell  you?  It's  Mr.Barnes'  Uncle 
Joseph.  He's  been  roaming  around  the  world  all  his 
life.  Good  enough,  but  kind-a  good  for  nothing,  you 
know." 

"Ain't  he  got  no  family?" 

"Family,  I'd  think  not.  He's  a  bachelor,  and  scared 
to  death  of  women." 

Passing  him  his  dessert  a  few  moments  later,  Miss 
Abbie  looked  curiously  at  her  ancient  rescuer.  His  head 
was  slightly  bald,  his  hair  iron  gray,  his  forehead  and 
nose  very  prominent,  his  expression  kindly,  but  timid. 
His  coat  was  frayed  at  the  edges,  his  linen  not  strictly 
clean.  He  seemed  shy,  never  speaking  except  when  some 
one  addressed  him,  just  one  of  those  floating  pieces  of 
neglected  humanity,  having  no  home,  not  needed  by  any 
one,  whose  death  would  leave  no  gap  in  any  life. 

By  four  o'clock  the  guests  began  to  disperse ;  by 
five  they  were  all  gone  and  the  christening  was  over. 

That  night,  when  Helen  Gould  lay  asleep  on  her 
mother's  bed  and  Teddy  was  tucked  away  in  his  crib, 
little  Minnie,  robed  in  her  nightdress,  slipped  off  to  Miss 
Abbie's  lean-to  bedroom  and  found  that  weary  person 
sitting  by  the  window,  looking  sad,  as  was  her  wont. 

Minnie  climbed  up  in  her  lap,  smoothed  her  slim 
face  and  patted  the  wrinkles  out  with  a  loving  hand. 
Tears  unbidden  stole  from  Miss  Abbie's  eyes. 

"Is  you  lone  and  lorn  today?" 

"Yes,  honey,  lone  and  lorn  and  unlucky." 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE  PICNIC 

SWEET  JUNE 

Come,  sweet  June,  and  let  me  lay 

My  head  upon  thy  flowry  breast, 
Pressing  my  face  against 

The  flowers  I  love  best. 

Oh!  thou  art  fair,  and  wondrous  is  thy  power 
To  while  away  a  drowsy  summer  hour! 
Seductive  is  thy  smile,  and  sweet  the  air 
Laden  with  thy  perfume  everywhere. 

I'll  lay  me  down  upon  thy  leafy  lap, 
And  there,  amid  thy  roses,  take  a  nap — 
The  deep  blue  sky  a  canopy  above, 
The  birds  and  bees  crooning  out  their  love. 
Oh,  let  me  dream  of  thee,  sweet  leafy  June! 
My  heart  and  thine  keyed  up  to  perfect  tune. 
Wrapped  in  thy  arms,  dear,  let  me  dream  away 
The  matchless  beauty  of  a  summer  day. 

Summer  had  arrived.  The  lazy,  leafy  month  of 
June  was  shedding  its  sunshine  on  the  little  town  of 
Roseville. 

It  was  an  attractive,  picturesque  spot,  located  near 
the  banks  of  a  winding  stream.  Heavy  timber  grew 
near  the  water  and  huge  old  forest  trees  were  scattered 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  33 

round  about  as  far  as  the  edge  of  the  rolling  prairie 
land  that  lay  a  mile  beyond  the  limits  of  the  town. 

Fish  abounded  in  the  little  stream,  and  many  a  lazy 
man  and  truant  schoolboy  sat  on  its  mossy  banks  and 
angled  for  the  finny  tribe.  Who  could  blame  them? 
Woods  and  weather,  birds  and  bees,  blue  skies  and 
limpid  waters,  wild  roses  and  green  ferns  lured  them 
forth. 

"Ma,  let's  go  to  the  woods  tomorrow,  all  of  us,  and 
play  like  it  was  a  picnic." 

Johnny,  who  made  the  suggestion,  was  sitting  on 
the  back  porch  stemming  gooseberries,  likewise  Willie, 
while  Mrs.  Barnes  and  Miss  Abbie  were  just  finishing 
up  the  week's  washing,  having  arrived  at  the  rinsing 
period. 

"Why,  I  don't  know.    It  is  mighty  pretty  weather." 

"There's  the  ironing  to  do,"  said  Miss  Abbie. 

"That's  so,  and  I  haven't  got  anything  baked.  We 
ate  up  all  the  cake  Sunday." 

"Did  Johnny  say  picnic?"  asked  Tildy,  appearing 
upon  the  scene  with  the  baby  in  her  arms.  "Oh,  I  wish 
we  could  go !" 

"I  wis  we  tould  go,"  echoed  Minnie. 

"My  eye,  I  wish  we  could  go !"  cried  Willie,  trying 
to  shoot  a  gooseberry  into  Johnny's  mouth. 

"Well,  well,,  if  you  all  want  to  go  so  bad,  maybe 
we  can  manage  it,"  said  Mrs.  Barnes,  as  she  wrung 
the  last  garment  out  of  the  water. 

"We  might  iron  a  few  things  we  need  tonight," 
observed  Miss  Abbie. 

"And  bake  a  little  bit  this  afternoon,"  added  Mrs. 
Barnes. 

"Whoop !     Whoop !"  cried  Johnny. 


34  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

"But  how'll  we  go?"  asked  Tildy,  the  practical. 

"There  it  is,"  and  Mrs.  Barnes  set  down  the  clothes 
basket  she  was  carrying  as  the  question  confronted  her. 

"Let's  walk,  and  wheel  the  baby  in  her  buggy," 
said  Willie. 

"What'll  we  do  with  Teddy?  And  Minnie  can't 
walk  that  far." 

"Carry  'em,"  said  Johnny. 

"Carry  those  children — and  all  that  lunch?  We 
can't  do  it." 

"Well,  let's  borrow  Mrs.  Baker's  buggy,"  said  Willie. 

"No,  it  has  only  one  seat,  and  she  wouldn't  like 
to  loan  it  anyway,"  replied  his  mother. 

"There's  Mr.  Scott's  delivery  wagon,"  suggested 
Johnny. 

"But  he  uses  it  every  day.    That  won't  do." 

"I  don't  see  no  way  to  go  at  all,"  said  Miss  Abbie 
disconsolately. 

While  Mrs.  Barnes  and  Miss  Abbie  were  hanging 
out  the  clothes,  the  children  discussed  the  question  of 
going  over  and  over  again,  suggesting  every  vehicle  the 
small  town  contained.  There  was  no  regular  livery  barn 
in  the  place,  and  had  there  been  one,  Mrs.  Barnes  would 
not  have  felt  justified  in  hiring  one  for  such  an  occasion. 

As  the  afternoon  wore  on,  the  chances  for  a  picnic 
the  next  day  looked  very  slim. 

"Well,  I'll  bake  some  pies  and  cookies  anyway," 
observed  Mrs.  Barnes,  "and  maybe  we  can  think  out 
some  way  by  morning." 

The  children  slept  poorly  that  night,  their  rest  being 
disturbed  by  visions  of  green  woods,  picnic  parties  and 
horses  and  buggies.  Willie  was  so  wrought  up  over  the 
affair  that  he  talked  out  in  his  sleep  several  times. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  35 

"Whoa  there  !  Whoa !  Whoa !  The  horse  is  run 
ning  away !" 

"What  horse?"  cried  Johnny,  waking  up.  "Have 
you  got  a  horse?" 

"I  was  dreaming  we  had  a  horse  and  was  going 
to  the  picnic,"  murmured  Willie,  sinking  upon  his  pillow 
again. 

"No  such  luck,"  moaned  Johnny. 

The  morning  dawned  clear  and  beautiful,  a  rosy 
dawn  in  a  blue  sky,  a  typical  June  morning. 

"It's  so  lovely,"  cried  Tildy,  standing  in  the  door 
way  after  breakfast,  "and  to  think  we  can't  get  a  horse 
or  wagon  or  anything.  I'd  be  willing  to  haul  the  chil 
dren  in  a  wheelbarrow  myself,  if  I  could." 

"I've  got  it !"  cried  Johnny,  throwing  up  his  hat  and 
leaping  over  the  porch  railing  like  a  deer. 

"Got  what,  Johnny  Barnes?  You  act  like  you  had 
something  dreadful,"  said  his  sister. 

"I  know  it'll  do,  and  it's  all  we  can  do,"  he  ex 
plained,  as  if  fearing  opposition. 

"What'll  do?    What  do  you  mean?" 

"Mr.  Howard's  paper  cart.  He  ain't  using  it  now, 
and  it'll  hold  Minnie  and  Teddy  and  the  baby,  and  we'll 
pull  it,  turn  about." 

"Will  that  do,  ma?"  asked  Tildy,  her  mother  hav 
ing  come  to  the  door. 

"It'll  be  a  mighty  poor  do,  but  I  reckon  it's  all  we 
can  do,"  she  replied  dubiously. 

So  it  transpired  that  Johnny  got  the  cart,  a  two- 
wheeled  vehicle  that  Mr.  Howard  used  to  carry  about 
his  wall  paper  and  other  utensils  from  house  to  house. 
It  gave  ample  accommodation  for  the  three  little  ones 
and  the  luncheon,  and  it  was  a  very  happy  party  that 


36  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

started  to  the  woods  that  morning.  Willie  and  Johnny 
pulled  the  cart,  as  they  went  through  the  town,  but  the 
others  took  their  turns  when  they  came  to  the  country 
road. 

A  mile  and  a  half  from  home  they  came  to  an  idyl 
lic  spot,  a  gentle,  grassy  slope,  close  to  the  river  bank, 
where  giant  oaks  spread  their  foliage  overhead  and  shells 
anfl  mossy  rocks  were  scattered  along  the  shores. 

"We'll  stop  here,"  said  Mrs.  Barnes.  "I  don't  be 
lieve  there's  no  prettier  spot  on  earth." 

So  the  cart  was  halted,  a  quilt  was  spread  upon  the 
ground,  on  which  the  baby  was  placed,  together  with 
a  lot  of  playthings  which  Tildy  had  thoughtfully  brought 
along. 

Ted  and  Minnie  were  soon  busy  hunting  for  pretty 
shells  and  rocks,  while  Johnny  and  Willie,  producing 
their  fishing  tackle,  crawled  out  on  an  old  log  that  ex 
tended  far  into  the  river  and  dropped  their  hooks  into 
the  limpid  water. 

"I'll  gather  some  dry  sticks  to  cook  dinner  with," 
said  Tildy.  "Are  you  sure  you  brought  the  frying  pan, 
ma?" 

"Yes,  and  I  do  hope  the  eggs  ain't  broke.  Abbie, 
hand  me  that  basket." 

All  things  were  well,  and  luckily,  just  before  dinner, 
the  boys  landed  three  crappies  which  Mrs.  Barnes  fried 
to  a  finish.  The  fish  and  eggs  together  with  the  cold 
edibles,  made  a  sumptuous  repast.  They  were  just  clear 
ing  away  the  dinner,  when  Miss  Abbie  exclaimed,  "Who's 
that!" 

A  tall,  shambling  figure  was  seen  climbing  up  the 
river  bank  not  far  away.  An  old  straw  hat  was  well 
down  on  his  face,  and  a  fishing  rod  in  his  hand. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  37 

"Law  me,  if  it  ain't  Uncle  Joe !" 

The  exclamation  attracted  his  attention.  He  looked 
toward  them  and  paused,  as  if  uncertain  whether  or  not 
to  advance. 

"Come  on,  Uncle  Joe,  and  have  some  dinner.  We're 
just  clearing  it  away." 

Slowly  he  came  toward  them.  He  was  coatless,  and 
only  one  gallus  supported  his  faded  trousers. 

"Having  a  picnic?"  he  asked,  taking  a  dingy  ban 
danna  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  and  wiping  his  face. 

"Yes,  the  children  would  have  me  come.  They 
caught  some  fish  too,  but  we  et  'em  all  up." 

"I  haven't  caught  a  one  this  morning,"  he  said.  "I'm 
always  unlucky. 

Miss  Abbie  looked  up  quickly  as  he  said  this,  a 
light  of  sympathy  in  her  face,  but  she  only  said,  "Just 
like  me." 

Uncle  Joe  looked  at  her  curiously  as  he  began  to  eat, 
doing  full  justice  to  all  the  remaining  food,  and  Mrs. 
Barnes  inwardly  grieved  that  there  wouldn't  be  a  mor 
sel  left,  in  case  the  children  wanted  a  piece  before  they 
reached  home. 

"Where'd  the  boys  catch  the  fish?"  asked  Uncle  Joe, 
after  he  had  finished  his  dinner. 

"Right  out  there  on  that  log,"  answered  Johnny, 
"and  I  bet  there's  lots  more." 

"It  does  look  like  a  good  place.  I  expect  there's  a 
deep  pool  under  there." 

Presently  Uncle  Joe  and  the  two  boys  were  sitting 
in  a  row  on  the  trunk  of  the  old  tree  silently  watching 
for  nibbles.  Teddy  and  the  baby  went  to  sleep,  and 
Tildy  sat  on  the  bank  grieving  because  she  had  no  fish 
ing  tackle. 


38  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

"I'll  give  you  my  hook,"  said  Uncle  Joe,  after  fish 
ing  for  an  hour  without  catching  anything.  "Maybe 
you'll  be  luckier  than  me." 

Tildy  took  his  place  on  the  log  and,  to  her  great 
delight,  soon  landed  a  fine  crappie.  In  her  excitement 
she  threw  her  rod  in  the  air  whirling  the  fish  around 
their  heads  till  it  was  some  time  before  Uncle  Joe  could 
get  it  off  the  hook. 

"Oh,  oh !  it  squirms  so.  I  wouldn't  touch  it  for  any 
thing!"  cried  Tildy. 

All  this  noise  woke  Teddy,  but  Miss  Abbie  managed 
to  soothe  him  to  sleep  again  in  her  arms.  Quiet  had 
hardly  been  restored  when  Willie  yelled  out,  "I've  got 
one !"  But  even  as  he  yelled,  he  fell  and  went  splash  into 
the  water,  in  the  deepest  part  of  the  pool. 

"Oh,  oh !  Uncle  Joe,  save  him !"  cried  his  mother, 
rushing  frantically  to  the  bank.  But  even  as  she  spoke, 
Uncle  Joe  leaped  into  the  water  with  the  agility  of  a 
young  man,  and  by  the  time  Willie  had  got  to  the  surface 
for  the  first  time,  he  had  him  by  the  shirt  collar,  and 
partly  waded,  half  swam  with  him  to  the  shore. 

A  sorry  looking  pair  they  were,  but  Mrs.  Barnes, 
in  her  gratitude  and  excitement,  actually  hugged  them 
both,  and  Miss  Abbie,  who  had  dropped  Ted  on  the 
ground,  raised  her  arms  for  a  moment  as  though  she  was 
going  to  hug  them  too,  then,  checking  herself,  she  said, 
"A  brave  deed,  Mr.  Joe,"  at  which  he  held  up  his  dripping 
head  for  a  moment  and  looked  quite  manly. 

After  this  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  go  home. 
The  day  being  warm,  Willie  and  his  rescuer  were  not  so 
uncomfortable  in  their  wet  clothes,  but  their  appearance 
was  anything  but  prepossessing.  Uncle  Joe's  clinging 
clothes  brought  out  the  bones  and  angles  in  his  long,  lank 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  39 

figure,  and  he  insisted  on  pulling  the  cart,  that  is,  by 
one  shaft,  the  children  taking  turn  about  with  the  other. 
Once  Johnny  dropped  his  shaft  to  run  after  a  squirrel, 
and  Miss  Abbie  took  it  up,  walking  quite  a  distance  with 
Mr.  Joe,  neither  speaking  a  word.  Mrs.  Barnes  and  Tildy 
walked  close  behind  the  vehicle,  to  keep  Teddy  from 
climbing  out,  as  that  youngster  wanted  to  walk  and  kick 
his  feet  in  the  dusty  road.  Twice  they  had  taken  him 
out,  and  he  would  walk  nowhere  except  in  the  middle 
of  the  road  where  the  dust  was  deep. 

Just  before  they  reached  the  town  Uncle  Joe  separ 
ated  himself  from  the  party,  and  took  a  circuitous  route 
home,  the  two  boys  hitching  themselves  to  the  cart. 

It  was  a  tired,  hungry,  but  happy  little  party  that 
halted  at  the  Barnes'  front  gate,  where  they  proceeded 
to  unload  their  baggage,  which  consisted  of  baskets, 
buckets,  frying  pans,  Minnie,  Teddy,  and  Helen  Gould, 
who  had  slept  all  the  way  home. 

The  cart  was  returned  to  Mr.  Howard's  stable  yard 
and  the  picnic  was  over,  a  perfect  success  in  every  way, 
even  including  the  ducking. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  RECEPTION 

Mrs  Nash  had  sent  out  cards  for  a  reception — real 
printed  cards  in  stamped  envelopes,  sent  through  the 
mail.  Such  a  thing  had  never  been  done  in  Roseville 
before.  Of  course  there  had  been  parties,  but  the  invita 
tions  were  delivered  verbally,  or  at  most  written  by 
hand  on  small  note  paper.  This  was  to  be  a  grand  affair, 
two  weeks'  notice  having  been  given  so  everybody  would 
have  time  to  get  ready. 

Mrs.  Barnes,  of  course,  had  received  an  invitation 
and  was  in  a  great  state  of  anxiety  and  excitement.  On 
account  of  the  increasing  frequency  of  her  family,  she 
had  given  very  little  time  or  money  to  dress  for  several 
years  past.  Now  the  appalling  question  arose  before 
her — what  should  she  wear? 

That  question  comes  to  every  woman  some  time  in 
her  life,  to  some  daily.  It  comes  to  the  rich  and  poor 
alike,  and  is  about  as  difficult  for  one  to  answer  as  the 
other.  The  rich  woman  can  wear  what  she  pleases,  but 
don't  know  what  pleases  her ;  the  poor  woman  must  wear 
what  she  can  get,  whether  it  pleases  her  or  not. 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can  afford  to  buy  the  goods  and 
hire  my  dress  made  too,  and  I  don't  see  how  I  can  make 
it  myself  so  it'll  look  fit  to  wear.  I  ain't  made  anything 
but  children's  clothes  for  so  long,"  sighed  Mrs.  Barnes. 

"Do  you  intend  to  get  a  silk  dress?"  asked  Miss 
Abbie,  soothingly. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  41 

"Yes,  I  thought  it  had  better  be  silk.  I  never  had 
but  one  silk  dress — my  wedding  dress,  and  I'd  like  to 
have  another.  It's  a  dark  blue  piece  I  was  looking  at." 

"If  you'll  get  a  good,  new  pattern,  maybe  I  could 
help  you  fit  it." 

"Maybe  you  could.  I  believe  I'll  go  uptown  this 
morning  and  buy  the  piece  and  we'll  try  to  make  out 
somehow." 

Mrs.  Barnes  was  not  the  only  woman  who  was 
studying  the  subject  of  dress.  All  the  seamstresses  in 
town  were  busy,  and  many  were  making  their  own 
clothes. 

But  if  all  the  town  was  stirred  up  over  the  recep 
tion,  what  must  have  been  the  state  of  Mrs.  Nash's 
mind — the  lady  who  was  to  give  it?  She  was  determined 
it  should  be  a  great  success,  that  no  reasonable  amount 
of  money  or  effort  should  be  spared  to  make  it  one  of 
the  greatest  events  that  had  ever  taken  place  in  Rose- 
ville.  True,  her  house  was  not  large.  There  were  only 
four  rooms  downstairs  and  two  above,  the  latter  being 
approached  by  a  very  narrow  and  steep  stairway. 

Some  of  her  carpets  and  furniture  were  not  as  fresh 
as  she  would  like  to  have  had  them,  but  everything 
looked  better  by  lamplight  than  by  daylight — so  she  had 
determined  to  close  up  the  house,  pull  down  the  blinds 
and  light  the  lamps,  even  if  it  should  be  a  hot  summer 
afternoon. 

Of  course  the  people  would  bring  their  fans  and  she 
would  serve  ice  cream  to  cool  them  off. 

She  was  very  much  disturbed  about  the  music.  She 
must  have  an  orchestra,  and  there  wasn't  a  soul  in  Rose- 
ville  who  could  play  any  stringed  instrument,  except  old 
Uncle  Joe  Barnes,  who,  back  in  his  youth,  had  played 


42  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

the  fiddle  for  all  the  country  dances,  in  spite  of  his  ex 
treme  timidity.  Finally,  after  much  inquiry,  she  heard 
of  two  men  who  played  the  guitar  and  mandolin.  They 
lived  in  the  next  town,  but  she  resolved  to  hire  them  at 
any  cost. 

Another  cause  of  grave  consideration  was  the  ques 
tion  of  gloves.  Should  she  wear  them  or  not  at  the  great 
hand-shaking?  She  had  always  understood  that  hand 
shaking  was  the  principal  part  of  a  reception.  For  com 
fort  she  much  preferred  leaving  her  gloves  off,  but  for 
style  she  believed  she  ought  to  wear  them.  They  would 
have  to  reach  to  her  elbows,  as  her  dress  was  made  with 
low  neck  and  short  sleeves. 

There  would  be  no  set  programme.  Hand-shaking, 
refreshments  and  an  orchestra  were  all  she  had  ever 
heard  of  as  constituting  a  reception,  and  she  was  going 
to  stay  by  the  rule. 

The  momentus  day  arrived,  a  hot,  sultry  day  in  July. 
Mrs.  Barnes  was  just  putting  the  finishing  touches  on 
her  new  blue  silk,  and  regretting  that  she  had  not 
selected  a  thin  lawn  for  such  a  warm  day,  when  a  little 
boy  arrived  hurriedly  at  the  back  door. 

"Mrs.  Nash  says  for  Miss  Abbie  to  come  right  over 
there !  The  girl  she  got  to  help  her  is  sick,  and  the  ice 
cream  ain't  made,  and  she's  got  to  have  somebody — 
and—" 

Miss  Abbie  looked  at  Mrs.  Barnes.  "Must  I  go? 
You're  so  busy." 

"Yes,  you'd  better.  Mrs.  Nash  needs  you  more  than 
I  do,  with  all  them  folks  coming.  Go  right  along — 
Tildy'll  take  care  of  the  children." 

And  so  it  happened  that  Miss  Abbie  attended  the 
reception.  Shortly  after  she  had  gone,  Uncle  Joe  Barnes 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  43 

came  sauntering  by  and  stopped  for  a  little  chat  and 
play  with  the  children.  They  thought  a  great  deal  of 
him  and  looked  forward  to  his  coming,  for  though  he 
said  little  to  them,  he  seldom  forgot  to  bring  them  some 
little  gift,  a  bit  of  candy  or  an  orange.  Sometimes  he 
whittled  out  tops  and  whistles,  or  made  them  a  kite.  On 
this  occasion  he  brought  Minnie  a  pasteboard  doll  that 
he  had  cut  out  himself. 

"It's  a  powerful  hot  day,"  he  said,  seating  himself 
on  the  shady  porch. 

"Yes,  such  a  hot  day  for  the  reception.  And  they 
say  Mrs.  Nash  is  going  to  have  the  doors  and  windows 
closed,  and  the  lamps  burning.  I'm  afraid  we  can't  stand 
it." 

At  this  point  the  little  boy  who  had  came  after  Miss 
Abbie,  appeared  again  in  the  same  breathless  state. 

"Is  Mr.  Joe  here — Mr.  Joe  Barnes — oh  yes,"  seeing 
him  on  the  porch. 

"She  say — Mrs.  Nash  says  that  Mr.  Joe  is  to  bring 
his  fiddle  and  come  down  to  her  house  this  afternoon 
and  play,  and  Miss  Allen  will  play  on  the  organ  with 
him." 

"What's  the  matter?  I  thought  she  was  going  to 
have  some  men  from  Knoxburg,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Barnes. 

"She  says  they  can't  come,  and  she's  got  to  have 
some  kind  of  music,  and  she'll  pay  him  well." 

"Why,  I-I  ain't  been  playing  much  lately,  and  I'm 
afraid  I  couldn't." 

"Yes  you  can,  Uncle  Joe.  I  heard  you  play  beautiful 
the  other  evening  over  to  Sarah's.  Besides,  Mrs.  Nash 
must  have  somebody,  and  you're  the  only  one  there  is. 


44  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

I'll  dress  you  up  all  right.     I  wonder  if  you  could  wear 
Andrew's  new  coat?" 

"I-I'm  afraid  it  'ud  be  too  short." 

Mrs.  Barnes  did  not  wait  for  him  to  say  more  but 
brought  out  the  coat  and  tried  it  on  him.  It  was  short; 
the  sleeves  struck  him  far  above  the  wrists  and  the 
back  crawled  up  on  his  shoulders.  She  pulled  the  sleeves 
down  with  all  her  might  and  almost  swung  her  full 
weight  on  the  back  to  get  it  below  the  waist,  but  it  was 
no  use. 

"It  won't  do,  Uncle  Joe,  but  if  you'll  bring  over 
your  best  clothes,  I'll  brush  'em  up  for  you,  and  put  on 
Andrew's  collar  and  necktie." 

"Why,  I  can  wear  Philip's  coat.  He's  tall  like  me, 
and  sister  Sarah'll  brush  me  up.  You've  got  enough  to 
do." 

And  so  it  transpired  that  Uncle  Joe  also  attended  the 
reception. 

The  thermometer  registered  95  in  the  shade  at  two 
o'clock  when  Mrs.  Barnes,  wearing  her  blue  silk  and  new 
straw  hat,  carrying  a  parasol  over  her  head,  crossed  the 
road  going  toward  her  neighbor's  house.  The  closed 
door  and  lowered  window  shades  would  have  indicated 
to  a  stranger  that  no  one  was  at  home — but  in  this  case 
it  indicated  a  reception — a  very  warm  reception,  indeed. 

Mrs.  Barnes,  contrary  to  her  usual  custom  of  open 
ing  the  door  and  entering  the  house  unannounced, 
paused,  lowered  her  parasol,  adjusted  her  hat,  and 
knocked.  The  door  was  immediately  opened,  and  Mrs. 
Nash,  whom  she  was  accustomed  to  meet  every  day  in 
dressing  sacque  or  wrapper,  stood  before  her  like  a 
statue,  in  low-cut  dress,  short  sleeves  and  elbow  gloves. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  45 

Her  hair  was  done  up  high  on  her  head,  an  elaborate  bow 
crowning  the  top. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Barnes.  So  glad  to  see  you. 
Just  pass  upstairs." 

She  gave  her  the  tips  of  her  gloved  fingers,  and 
Mrs.  Barnes,  uttering  an  awed  monosylable,  climbed  up 
the  narrow  stairway. 

Mrs.  Baker  and  two  or  three  other  ladies  were  there 
fanning  and  mopping  their  faces  with  powdered  hand 
kerchiefs. 

"Awfully  hot,  I'm  just  sweltering,  and  the  powder 
won't  stay  on,"  said  one. 

"My  frizzes  are  all  out.  I  curled  them  good  before 
I  came,  but  they  are  straight  and  wet  as  a  dishrag  now." 

"Shall  we  go  down?    I  wonder  if  many  have  come?" 

As  they  passed  down  they  met  two  ladies  coming 
up  and  had  to  squeeze  against  the  wall  to  let  them  by. 

Presently  the  house  was  full.  Uncle  Joe  had  arrived, 
also  the  maiden  lady  who  was  to  accompany  him  on  the 
wheezy  organ.  Uncle  Joe's  repertoire  of  musical  num 
bers  was  neither  large,  late,  nor  classical,  consisting 
chiefly  of  "The  Devil's  Dream,"  "The  Irish  Washer 
woman,"  "The  Arkansas  Traveller,"  and  the  like ;  but  he 
played  them  all  over  and  over  again  as  hard  as  he  could, 
and  had  at  least  one  admiring  listener.  Miss  Abbie's 
heart  was  strangely  moved  as  she  heard  the  stirring  notes 
of  the  violin,  albeit  she  was  busy  dishing  out  the  ice 
cream  and  cutting  cake.  And,  while  alone  in  the  kitchen, 
the  two  waiters  having  taken  some  trays  to  the  parlors, 
she  was  almost  taken  off  her  feet  by  the  sudden  appear 
ance  of  Uncle  Joe. 

"Had  to  come  out  to  get  a  breath  of  fresh  air  and 
some  water,"  he  explained,  putting  his  hand  up  to  his 


46  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

collar,  which  was  lying  like  a  wet  rag  around  his  neck. 

"Here's  a  glass  right  now — and — and  how  are  they 
getting  on  in  there?" 

"Mighty  slow  and  hot,  and  I've  nearly  played  my 
arm  off." 

"Oh,  it's  beautiful,  Mr.  Joe.  I  didn't  know  you 
could  play  so  well." 

Just  then  the  waiters  returned,  and  the  weary  violin 
ist  made  his  way  back  to  the  reception  rooms. 

The  assembled  guests  knew  each  other  quite  well, 
were  accustomed  to  meeting  almost  daily  in  their  every 
day  clothes  at  their  everyday  tasks,  and  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  would  have  made  merry  and  enjoyed 
themselves,  but  now  the  knowledge  that  they  were  at 
a  reception — not  a  common  party — the  feel  of  their  new 
clothes,  and  the  overpowering  loftiness  and  dignity  of 
Mrs.  Nash,  cast  a  cloud  over  their  spirits  and  tied  their 
tongues,  so  they  sat  and  looked  at  each  other  and  wished 
they  could  go  home. 

Finally  some  one  asked  the  organist,  a  long,  lean 
maiden  with  bare  skeleton  shoulders,  to  sing  "Molly 
Darling,"  which  she  did  in  a  squeaky  voice,  accompanied 
by  the  squeaky  organ  and  Uncle  Joe's  scratching  fiddle. 

Just  as  the  last  notes  of  the  song  died  away,  a  pain 
ful  silence  followed,  which  was  broken  by  a  very  un 
looked-for  occurrence.  A  clatter  was  heard  outside,  the 
front  door  was  thrown  open  and  a  small  boy  barefooted, 
bareheaded,  came  running  into  the  room. 

"Why,  Willie  Barnes,  whatever  made  you — " 

But  his  mother's  mortified  expression  was  cut  short. 

"Ma,  oh  ma !  Johnny's  killed  !  He  fell  off  the  wood 
shed  and  can't  talk." 

"Oh  doctor,"    cried    Mrs.    Barnes,    turning    to    Dr. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  47 

Mather,  who  sat  near  her,  "come  with  me.  What  in  the 
world  did  he  fall  off  the  woodshed  for?  Whatever  am 
I  to  do  with  the  children !" 

Mrs.  Barnes  and  the  doctor  hurried  away;  Uncle 
Joe  followed  them,  and  a  general  stampede  occurred — 
the  guests  in  all  their  finery  running  across  the  street  to 
the  Barnes'  place,  Mrs.  Nash  following  in  the  rear, 
vainly  trying  to  hold  up  her  ruffled  train. 

When  they  arrived,  Johnny  was  lying  with  his  head 
in  Tildy's  lap,  gasping  for  breath,  while  little  Minnie 
was  standing  near,  crying.  The  doctor  examined  the 
boy,  bathed  his  face  with  water,  raised  him  to  a  sit 
ting  posture,  and  Johnny  opened  his  eyes  and  began  to 
bieathe  naturally. 

"Just  knocked  the  breath  out  of  him,"  said  the  doc 
tor.  "Pretty  bad  jar — be  all  right  in  a  little  while." 

But  the  reception  was  broken  up.  The  guests  went 
straggling  back  by  twos  and  threes,  got  their  hats  and 
went  home.  Mrs.  Nash  so  far  forgot  herself  and  her 
dignity,  as  to  leave  the  door  open  when  she  shook  hands 
with  them  at  parting,  and  they  so  far  departed  from  the 
truth  as  to  tell  her  they  had  enjoyed  themselves. 

They  then  rushed  home,  with  all  speed  to  get  off 
their  new  clothes,  sit  in  the  cool  shade,  and  criticise  their 
hostess. 

Mrs.  Nash  went  back  to  her  deserted  parlor,  sat 
down  on  the  sofa,  clasped  her  gloved  hands,  and  mur 
mured  to  herself,  "Those  awful  Barnes  children." 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  CIRCUS 

The  summer  days  wore  on.  Vacation  was  drawing 
to  a  close.  The  school  children  of  Roseville  dreaded  to 
think  of  the  second  week  in  September,  when  bells  and 
books  would  be  calling  them  from  their  outdoor  sports. 
Not  so  the  parents.  Mothers  and  fathers,  long  spent  with 
idle,  noisy  children,  longed  for  the  sound  of  the  school- 
bell  and  often  wished  that  the  term  would  last  twelve 
months  in  the  year. 

The  children  had  passed  a  glad,  happy  summer  in 
this  lovely  little  western  town,  surrounded  by  woods 
and  streams  and  so  convenient  for  picnics  and  fishing 
parties.  The  boys  had  put  in  most  of  their  idle  time 
at  ball  games  and  fishing,  the  girls  playing  hop-scotch 
and  trundling  about  the  family  babies,  Roseville  being 
noted  for  its  infant  population. 

As  a  grand  climax  (a  sort  of  last  appearance)  of  all 
the  summer  sport,  it  was  decided  by  the  majority  of  the 
kids  to  have  a  show,  a  regular  circus,  to  be  held  on  the 
common  in  front  of  the  Barnes  residence. 

Johnny  Barnes  and  Bob  Dale  got  up  the  program, 
an  elaborate  affair  that  would  include  many  actors  and 
some  animals,  for  what  would  a  circus  be  unless  it  had 
animals,  a  real  menagerie. 

"Where'll  we  get  the  animals?"  asked  Bob  Dale, 
talking  the  matter  over. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  49 

"I  can  bring  our  cow,"  said  Johnny.  She'll  lead 
anywhere,  and  Willie  can  ride  her." 

"And  we  can  get  Thompson's  goat  and  Sam  Stoll 
will  bring  his  white  rabbits  in  a  cage,  to  look  like  caged 
animals,"  observed  Bob,  brightening  up. 

"But  you  got  to  do  something,  got  to  tumble,  to 
turn  summersets,  hang  from  the  trapeze  and  walk  ropes. 
Who'll  do  that?"  querried  Johnny. 

"Why  all  of  us  kids  can  do  stunts,  if  we'll  practice 
a  few  days,"  replied  Bob,  encouragingly. 

And  so  the  melee  began.  For  full  two  weeks,  the 
common  in  front  of  the  house  was  alive  with  shrieking 
howling,  leaping  children.  By  much  hard  work  and 
some  help  from  the  parents,  they  managed  to  erect  a 
fairly  good  trapeze  and  to  stretch  a  tight  rope  from  one 
post  to  another.  To  procure  a  tent  was  impossible,  so 
it  had  to  be  an  open-air  circus. 

On  the  trapeze  and  tight  rope  some  boy  was  con 
tinually  performing,  so  it  was  no  uncommon  thing  for 
Mrs.  Barnes  to  be  called  several  times  a  day  to  wipe  off 
the  gore  and  bind  up  the  limbs  of  some  bruised  and  bleed 
ing  boy.  Still  the  fun  went  on.  Willie  Barnes  rode  the 
cow  from  morning  till  night,  practicing  all  manner  of 
stunts,  till  that  gentle  bovine  had  almost  ceased  to  give 
milk  and  wore  a  bewildered  look  in  her  eyes,  not  know 
ing  why  she  had  been  turned  from  a  family  cow  into  a 
circus  horse. 

A  chariot  race  was  on  the  program.  The  goat  was 
to  be  hitched  to  Teddy  Barnes'  little  red  wagon.  Be 
sides  this,  Bob  Dale  was  training  his  dog,  Watch,  to 
do  tricks,  to  stand  up  on  his  hind  legs,  to  shake  hands 
and  leap  over  chairs. 

Such  contortions   as  the   boys   went  through   were 


50  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

terrible  to  behold,  and  when  Sam  Stoll  painted  his  face 
and  acted  the  wild  man  from  Borneo,  it  was  simply 
immense. 

"But  we  ain't  got  no  horse,"  said  Johnny  Barnes 
disconsolately,  one  day.  "A  cow's  well  enough,  but  a 
real  circus  ought  to  have  a  real  horse."  So  Mr.  Nash 
very  kindly  loaned  them  his  old,  blind  mare,  who  marched 
solemnly  behind  the  cow  when  they  practiced  the  Grand 
Entry.  Johnny  Barnes  had  gotten  so  that  he  performed 
day  and  night.  He  couldn't  stand  on  the  porch  a  min 
ute,  talking  to  his  mother,  without  turning  a  handspring 
off  the  front  steps. 

"Say,  ma,"  he  said  one  day,  walking  into  the  kit 
chen  on  his  hands  and  turning  a  summersault  over  the 
stove,  "we  want  a  wild  animal.  Where'll  we  get  a  wild 
animal?" 

"You're  the  wildest  animal  that  I  know  of,"  said  his 
mother,  as  she  deposited  Helen  Gould  on  her  highchair, 
"and  I'll  tell  you  now,  Johnny  Barnes,  if  this  circus  busi 
ness  isn't  stopped,  I  am  going  to  have  your  Pa  whip 
you.  I  like  to  see  children  have  fun,  but  you've  passed 
the  limit.  When  I  came  from  town  yesterday,  I  couldn't 
find  the  baby.  Willie  had  taken  her  out  on  that  big  box 
for  a  dwarf  lady  thirty-two  years  old  and  twenty-two 
inches  high." 

Just  then  there  was  an  unearthly  scream  from  the 
street,  and  a  boy  came  rushing  in  breathlessly,  to  say  that 
Bod  Dale  had  fallen  off  the  tight  rope,  and  Mrs.  Barnes, 
forgetting  her  exasperation,  was  soon  helping  the  suffer 
ing  boy  to  his  feet,  but  he  couldn't  stand,  so  was  taken 
home  when  it  was  found  that  a  bone  was  broken. 

The  next  day  when  Willie  Barnes  was  doing  some 
extra  practicing  on  the  cow,  standing  on  one  foot,  the 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  51 

other  one  high  in  the  air,  he  forgot  to  guide  old  Cherry, 
and  she  walked  right  under  the  tight  rope  and  knocked 
him  off  so  that  he  fell  on  the  little  red  wagon  which  was 
directly  beneath  him,  hitched  to  the  goat.  Teddy  had 
just  climbed  into  the  wagon  and  the  frightened  goat 
started  off  down  th'e  road  at  a  fearful  pace.  Had  it  not 
been  that  Mr.  Barnes  was  just  coming  home  to  dinner 
and  stopped  the  runaway,  the  child  might  have  fared 
badly. 

This  was  the  last  straw  that  broke  the  camel's  back, 
the  last  act  of  the  circus.  Mr.  Barnes  took  the  scream 
ing  Teddy  in  his  arms,  called  Willie,  who  was  wiping  the 
dust  out  of  his  mouth,  and  entering  the  front  gate  just 
as  Johnny  was  standing  on  his  head,  he  grasped  that 
surprised  lad  by  the  seat  of  his  pants,  and  marched  them 
all  into  the  house. 

"This  circus  business  has  got  to  be  stopped !"  he 
thundered,  "I'm  not  going  to  put  up  with  it  another  day. 
Thank  heaven  school  begins  next  week !" 

He  immediately  went  into  the  back  yard,  where  he 
procured  an  axe,  and  walking  over  to  the  circus  ground, 
proceeded  to  cut  down  the  posts  that  held  the  trapeze  and 
tight  ropes,  unhitched  Teddy's  wagon  from  the  hungry 
goat  and  led  the  old  cow  back  into  the  stable  lot. 

"I  like  to  see  children  have  a  good  time,  but  blamed 
if  I  can  stand  everything,"  observed  Pa  Barnes,  as  he 
seated  himself  at  the  table. 

"I'm  mighty  glad  you  done  it,"  sighed  Mrs.  Barnes, 
"I've  been  nearly  crazy  for  two  weeks.  Johnny's  been 
standing  on  his  head  the  whole  endurin'  time  and  Willie 
a  setting  on  the  cow." 

"If  I  catch  them  at  any  more  of  their  tricks,  I'll 


52  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

thrash  'em,"  said  their  father,  looking  severely  at  the 
two  boys  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table. 

"The  cow  likes  for  me  to  ride  her,"  faltered  Willie, 
tears  of  disappointment  in  his  eyes. 

"Likes  it !  she's  stopped  giving  milk  all  right,  and 
looks  that  addled,  I'm  afraid  she's  a  losing  her  mind," 
replied  his  mother. 

"Johnny  had  no  business  starting  the  circus,  ob 
served  Mr.  Barnes. 

"He's  always  up  to  something,"  responded  his 
mother,  "I  wish  I  could  give  him  a  pill  or  a  capsule  that 
would  keep  him  out  of  mischief." 

"Hickory  tea  is  the  best  medicine  I  know  of,  and 
I'm  a  going  to  give  'em  a  good  dose  if  I  hear  any  more 
of  this  circus." 

"I  wish  we  could  get  along  without  whipping  them," 
sighed  the  little  mother,  "that  woman  at  the  mother's 
meeting  said  you  ought  not  to  use  the  rod,  but  raise  'em 
with  love  and  kindness." 

"That's  very  well  for  mild  children  like  Tildy  and 
Minnie,  but  these  boys  need  hickory  tea  and  strap  oil 
to  keep  their  spirits  down.  They  thrive  on  it,"  replied 
Pa  Barnes,  decisively. 

Next  Monday  morning  the  welcome  and  dreaded 
school  bell  rang  out  on  the  cool,  sweet  air,  and  the  wild 
children  of  Roseville  meekly  took  their  places  in  their 
respective  classes,  no  worse  for  the  summer  vacation  or 
the  circus,  ready  to  train  for  good  and  useful  men  and 
women. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MINNIE 

"A  little  child  shall  lead  them." 

A  cloud  hung  over  the  Barnes  home.  At  first  it  was 
no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand,  just  a  little  spot  on  the 
horizon,  but  now  it  had  assumed  the  proportions  of  a 
storm-cloud  and  overshadowed  the  whole  family. 

It  was  diphtheria — that  dreaded  disease  among  chil 
dren.  A  few  raw,  rainy  days  in  early  October,  coming 
right  after  hot  days  in  September,  a  little  exposure  and 
neglect,  and  the  germ  develops,  stealing  on  little  chil 
dren  like  a  thief  in  the  night. 

Willie  first  began  with  a  common  cold,  as  his  mother 
thought,  but  after  she  had  administered  horehound  tea, 
hive  syrup,  alum  and  honey  and  other  household  reme 
dies  with  no  effect  whatever,  she  called  in  the  doctor, 
who  pronounced  the  case  diptheria. 

Of  course  the  house  was  quarantined,  and  every  one 
who  dwelt  therein,  including  Miss  Abbie  and  Mr.  Barnes, 
who  could  ill  afford  to  be  idle,  with  his  accumulating 
family  and  soaring  doctor's  bills. 

When  a  contagious  disease  develops  in  a  small 
town,  panic  seizes  the  whole  community.  People  will 
not  pass  on  the  stricken  street  if  possible  to  avoid  it, 
while  necessary  edibles  and  supplies  are  delivered  at  the 
front  gate  with  fear  and  trembling.  It  is  not  because 
people  of  rural  districts  are  cold  hearted  or  unsym 
pathetic,  but  because  they  are  so  unaccustomed  to  such 


54  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

things   that   they  become   terrified.     In   cities   we   pass 
placarded  houses  every  day  and  think  nothing  about  it. 

Had  it  not  been  for  Uncle  Joe,  the  Barnes  family 
might  have  suffered  for  attention,  but  he  made  himself 
errand  boy,  groceryman,  and  mail  carrier.  He  came  as 
far  as  the  kitchen  door,  where  Miss  Abbie  received  and 
delivered  goods,  and  gave  orders  for  what  they  needed. 

Again  Miss  Abbie  proved  her  worth  and  devotion. 
Slow  but  faithful  she  gave  her  labor  and  her  love  un 
stinted,  and  more  than  repaid  them  for  all  they  had  done 
for  her.  They  seemed  to  have  become  her  own;  their 
troubles  were  her  troubles ;  the  welfare  of  the  family 
hung  on  her  heart  and  occupied  her  thoughts.  She  took 
the  mother's  and  father's  place  at  the  bedside  when  they 
were  weary  or  otherwise  engaged,  and  ministered  to  the 
children  with  almost  as  much  anxiety  as  did  the  parents. 

Johnny  and  Teddy  were  the  next  to  follow  Willie, 
even  before  the  prescribed  nine  days  had  elapsed,  but 
fortunately,  Willie  was  convalescing  as  they  came  down, 
and  though  their  cases  were  more  violent  then  his,  they 
were  much  better  in  a  few  days. 

After  about  three  weeks  of  almost  unmitigated  care 
and  watching,  the  three  children  were  out  of  danger  and 
the  others  showed  no  signs  of  taking  it. 

"It's  the  first  night  I've  felt  easy  in  my  mind  since 
Willie  took  sick,"  said  Mrs.  Barnes,  who  was  rocking 
the  baby  to  sleep  while  her  husband  read  the  paper. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  stove,  sat  Tildy  with  the 
baby  in  her  arms,  so  little  Minnie  crept  up  to  Miss  Abbie 
and  laid  her  curly  head  on  her  lap. 

"Fse  so  tired,"  she  said. 

"Tired,  of  course  you're  tired.  You're  sleepy.  Get 
up  in  my  lap." 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  55 

Little  Minnie  laid  her  head  on  Miss  Abbie's  breast 
and  began  to  pass  her  hand  over  the  familiar  wrinkles, 
running  her  fingers  on  down  her  neck  in  a  caressing 
manner. 

"Does  you  feel  lone  and  lorn  now?"  she  asked,  pat 
ting  out  the  largest  wrinkle  on  her  cheek. 

"Not  so  lone  now.  I  ain't  got  time  to  feel  lone 
when  you  all  need  me  so  much.  See,  I've  got  you,  and 
your  ma  and  Tildy  have  the  baby  and  Teddy." 

"You've  got  me,  ain't  you?" 

"Yes,  honey,  I've  got  you,  and  your  face  seems 
mighty  hot." 

"And  I  hurt  right  here,"  said  the  child,  putting  her 
hand  to  her  throat. 

"What — "  Miss  Abbie  stopped  rocking,  then  said 
in  a  quiet  tone,  "Mrs.  Barnes,  Minnie  says  her  throat 
hurts  her." 

"Don't  say  that,  Abbie!  I  don't  believe  I  could 
stand  that." 

"Stand  what?"  asked  Minnie. 

"Nothing,  honey,  nothing,  only  you  had  better  let 
me  give  you  something  to  gargle  in  your  throat." 

And  that  was  the  beginning  of  Minnie's  sickness. 

The  next  morning,  Uncle  Joe,  as  usual,  came  to  the 
kitchen  door  to  take  his  orders  for  the  day. 

"Quarantine'll  soon  be  off,"  he  remarked,  as  he  came 
toward  Miss  Abbie  with  a  smile. 

"No,  oh  no,  Minnie's  took  now!" 

"Minnie — not  Minnie?"  he  cried. 

"Yes  the  sweetest  child  of  all." 

"You're  right;  she's  the — the  sweetest  of  them  all." 

Uncle  Joe  had  removed  his  hat  when  he  first  spoke, 
and  now  he  kept  it  reverently  in  his  hand,  his  gaze  wan- 


56  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

dering  far  away.  Moisture  was  in  his  eyes  and  he  blew 
his  nose  vigorously. 

"It  seems  like  I  can't  bear  to  see  her  took,"  re 
marked  Miss  Abbie. 

"Nor  me.  I  thought  they  were  all  over  with  it.  I'd 
go  in  and  see  her,  but  people  wouldn't  let  me  come  out 
again." 

"No  they  wouldn't,  and  we've  got  to  have  things." 

And  then  Miss  Abbie  told  him  what  they  needed  to 
have  that  day. 

With  slow  and  plodding  footsteps  Uncle  Joe  wended 
his  way  toward  the  town,  a  look  of  melancholy  and  medi 
tation  on  his  face.  He  went  to  his  nephew's,  Philip's 
grocery  store,  where  he  stayed  most  of  the  time,  helping 
when  business  was  rushing,  which  was  very  seldom,  ex 
cept  on  Saturdays. 

"How's  the  folks?"  asked  Philip. 

"Bad,"  Uncle  Joe  shook  his  head.  "Minnie's  took 
now." 

"Minnie — that  pretty  little  thing.  Well,  I  hope 
she'll  come  through  as  well  as  the  others.  It's  too  bad 
— did  you  say  you  wanted  a  dozen  eggs,  little  girl  ?"  And 
Philip  was  soon  busy  with  his  customers,  while  Uncle 
Joe  selected  the  things  he  had  been  sent  for,  and  packing 
them  in  a  basket,  was  soon  on  his  way  back  to  the 
Barnes'  home. 

As  he  neared  the  Nash  house,  that  lady  opened  the 
door  and  came  out  on  the  porch  with  a  broom  in  her 
hand.  No  longer  did  she  wear  a  low-necked  dress  and 
elbow  gloves,  as  at  the  reception ;  in  their  stead  was  a 
blue  calico  wrapper  and  house  mittens. 

"Mr.  Barnes,  oh  Mr.  Barnes ! — don't  come  any  closer. 
I  just  want  to  inquire  about  the  Barnes  children." 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  57 

"They're  all  doing  well  but  Minnie.  She  got  sick 
yesterday." 

"That's  too  bad.  Did  you  know  that  Carrie  Baker 
was  down  with  it — and  they  closed  the  school  yes 
terday?" 

"No,  I  didn't  know  that.     I  guess  it's  spreading." 

"Tell  Mrs.  Barnes  I'm  real  sorry  for  her — but  they'll 
all  get  well.  You  can't  kill  the  Barnes  children." 

"I  hope  not,  ma'am,"  replied  Uncle  Joe  with  some 
spirit.  "They're  fine  children,  every  one  of  them." 

Mrs.  Howard  seemed  to  be  the  only  neighbor  who 
was  not  afraid  of  them,  often  calling  Miss  Abbie  to  the 
fence  to  give  her  a  dish  of  some  dainty  she  had  pre 
pared  for  the  invalids. 

And  so  the  hours  and  days  passed  and  Minnie  grew 
worse  in  spite  of  all  they  could  do,  till  one  bright,  sun 
shiny  day,  when  she  seemed  to  be  a  great  deal  better — 
the  doctor  having  tried  a  new  remedy. 

"Her  throat  is  clearing  up.  I  really  believe  she  has 
passed  the  crisis,"  said  the  doctor  when  he  took  his  leave 
that  evening. 

So  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barnes,  much  relieved  in  their 
minds,  retired  about  ten  o'clock,  leaving  Abbie  to  watch 
by  the  sick  child. 

"I'll  declare  I  feel  like  if  I  once  get  to  sleep  I  can't 
wake  up,"  said  Mrs.  Barnes,  as  she  laid  her  head  on  the 
pillow  that  night. 

Mr.  Barnes  just  groaned  for  reply.  He  had  been 
housed  up  at  home  ever  since  the  establishment  of  the 
quarantine,  and  anxiety  and  enforced  idleness  had 
brought  his  spirits  to  a  low  ebb. 

Night  wore  on.  Minnie  slept  fitfully  till  about  two 
o'clock,  then  she  seemed  restless,  her  breathing  became 


58  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

more  labored  and  Miss  Abbie  propped  her  up  on  some 
pillows. 

"Where's  ma?"  she  whispered. 

"She's  asleep — she's  tired  tonight,  honey." 

"Is  you  tired?" 

"No,  I'm  not  tired." 

"I  am — so  tired — right  here."  She  put  her  hand  to 
her  throat. 

"I  know  it  hurts  you,  but  the  doctor  says  you're 
better.  Here,  swallow  a  little  of  this." 

The  child  made  an  effort  to  obey,  but  struggled  and 
choked,  saying,  "I  can't,  it's  bad." 

"Well,  you  got  a  little  down  anyway.  Now  try  to 
sleep." 

She  dozed  off  for  a  few  minutes,  and  Miss  Ab'ne's 
sleepy  head  nodded  down  close  to  the  pillow  on  which 
the  child  was  lying. 

Presently  she  was  awakened  by  feeling  Minnie's 
hand  slipping  over  her  face,  across  the  wrinkles  and  down 
her  neck  in  the  same  old  way  she  was  wont  to  do. 

"Is  you  lone  and  lorn  now?"  came  a  whisper. 

"No,  honey,  not  now.    I've  got  you." 

"Got  me — ain't  you  ?"  The  thought  seemed  to  please 
her. 

"Yes,  dear,  and  if  you'll  get  well,  I'll  try  never  to  be 
lone  and  lorn  any  more." 

"Never  lone  any — oh,  hold  me  up !" 

The  child  was  gasping,  her  eyes  strained,  her  hands 
clinched.  Miss  Abbie  raised  her  in  her  arms. 

"Mrs.  Barnes!    Mrs.  Barnes!    Come  quick!" 

By  the  time  Mrs.  Barnes  reached  the  bedside, 
Minnie's  form  had  become  stiff  and  rigid,  in  a  sort  of 
spasm. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  59 

"Give  her  to  me !  Get  some  water !  Bathe  her  face 
— she  can't  breathe !"  said  the  agitated  mother. 

They  laid  her  on  the  bed  and  worked  with  her  for  a 
long  time;  finally  her  limbs  relaxed  and  her  breathing 
became  apparent.  Mr.  Barnes  had  gone  for  the  doctor. 
Day  was  just  breaking  as  they  came  in.  The  physician 
looked  at  his  little  patient — the  white,  unconscious  face, 
the  drawn  lips.  He  felt  the  pulse  and  avoided  the  eyes 
of  the  parents. 

"Is  there  any  hope,  doctor?"  asked  the  father. 

"I'm  afraid  not.  Symptoms  were  all  favorable  yes 
terday — but  this  is  a  treacherous  disease." 

The  children  were  not  yet  up,  and  it  was  a  sad  little 
group  that  stood  around  the  bed.  About  this  time  a 
gentle  knock  was  heard  at  the  kitchen  door,  and  Miss 
Abbie  went  to  open  it. 

There  stood  Uncle  Joe,  come  to  take  his  orders  for 
the  day.  When  he  saw  Miss  Abbie's  tear-stained  face, 
he  guessed  the  truth. 

"Is  she — she  worse?"  he  asked  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"She's  almost  gone!"  At  this  Miss  Abbie's  grief 
broke  out  afresh,  and  she  hid  her  face  in  her  apron. 

"I'm  coming  in,"  said  Uncle  Joe,  and  he  followed 
her  into  the  sick  room.  Mrs.  Barnes  was  kneeling  by 
the  bed,  supporting  Minnie's  head  on  her  arm.  The 
child's  eyes  were  half  closed,  her  form  still.  The  doctor 
put  his  hand  over  her  face  and  said,  "It  is  all  over." 

Mr.  Barnes  led  his  weeping  wife  from  the  bedside, 
and  Miss  Abbie,  in  her  abandonment  of  grief,  laid  her 
head,  for  an  instant,  on  Uncle  Joe's  shoulder,  while  he 
supported  her  form  with  his  arm. 

At  this  moment  Tildy,  hearing  the  commotion,  poked 


60  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

her  face  in  from  the  bedroom  door,  saying,  "What's  the 
matter?  How's  Minnie?" 

"Minnie  is  with  the  angels,"  answered  the  doctor. 

This  was  the  first  deep  sorrow  that  had  fallen  upon 
the  Barnes  family.  Though  poor  and  struggling,  they 
had  always  managed  to  enjoy  life  a  little  as  they  went 
along  and  so  far  had  taken  no  personal  interest  in  the 
little  graveyard  over  the  hill,  where  all  of  the  oldest 
population  of  Roseville  now  slept. 

But  after  this  they  always  made  a  Sunday  excursion 
to  the  spot,  the  children  picking  wild  flowers  on  the  way 
to  adorn  the  little  grave.  Once  they  could  find  nothing 
but  dandelions  which  they  wove  into  a  chain  and  laid 
around  the  wooden  headstone,  and  Willie  was  detected 
by  his  mother  slipping  a  small  piece  of  candy  from  his 
pocket  and  sticking  it  under  a  clod,  in  his  loving  child 
ishness,  wishing  still  to  divide  with  the  little  sister  who 
lay  there. 

Miss  Abbie  always  wept  and  murmured,  "She  was 
all  I  had,"  while  her  hand  involuntarily  wandered  to  the 
wrinkles  in  her  face  that  Minnie  had  always  pressed  and 
patted  out.  The  Barnes  family  was  prostrated  with  grief. 
They  divided  their  time  between  the  little  cemetery  and 
home.  They  talked  about  little  Minnie  in  Heaven. 
They  had  lost  a  child,  but  had  gained  an  angel. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


AT  CHRISTMAS  TIME 

Little  Helen  was  one  year  old  and  Theodore  Roose 
velt  nearly  three.  Helen  was  just  beginning  to  toddle, 
to  walk  from  chair  to  chair,  and  balance  herself  by  the 
wall.  She  fell  down  dozens  of  times  a  day,  her  little 
feet  tripping  at  the  least  obstacle,  and  the  step  down 
from  the  living  room  to  the  kitchen  was  a  source  of  con 
stant  delight  to  her.  She  would  climb  up,  pulling  her 
self  by  the  .door-facing,  then  turning  around,  sit  down 
and  slide  over.  This  was  great  fun.  Sometimes  when 
she  fell  down,  Teddy  would  try  to  lift  her  up,  and  as  he 
was  very  short  and  fat,  it  was  a  hard  tug  and  a  great 
triumph  when  he  managed  to  raise  her. 

She  was  beginning  to  speak  a  few  words,  among 
others  she  would  say  "pig-a-wig,"  when  she  wanted  Tildy 
to  play  "Pig"  with  her  toes.  It  was  a  great  pleasure  to 
her  when  Tildy  would  begin :  "This  little  pig  says  I 
go  get  corn ;  this  little  pig  says,  where'll  you  get  it ;  this 
little  pig  says,  in  Mossie's  barn;  this  little  pig  says,  I'll 
go  tell ;  and  this  little  pig  says,  quee !  quee !  quee !  I 
can't  get  over  the  doorsill." 

At  the  quee,  quee,  quee,  Tildy  always  squeezed  and 
kissed  her  little  toes,  which  brought  forth  a  great  laugh. 

Teddy  was  still  young  enough  to  appreciate  the 
"pig"  story  himself,  and  he  would  often  poke  his  little 
toes  up  and  say,  "Mine,  too,  Tildy,  do  mine  too."  He 
was  a  very  noisy  child,  really  loved  to  make  a  clatter. 


62  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

He  pounded  on  tin  pans,  beat  the  stoves,  and  often  took 
the  funnel  of  the  oil  can  for  a  horn,  blowing  it  with  all 
his  might.  However,  he  was  good-natured  and  affection 
ate,  and  had  one  redeeming  quality — he  would  not  run 
off. 

For  some  unaccountable  reason,  in  spite  of  her  grief 
and  heartache  over  little  Minnie's  death,  Miss  Abbie  was 
looking  younger  and  fresher  than  she  had  for  many 
years.  She  had  even  begun  to  crimp  her  hair  a  little 
in  front,  and  always  wore  a  fresh  collar  pinned  with  a 
really  fine  old  cameo  pin  that  had  been  her  mother's, 
which  she  had  hitherto  kept  sacredly  laid  away.  She 
often  took  the  children  to  church  and  Sunday  school,  for 
which  occasions  Mrs.  Barnes  had  bought  and  made  for 
her  a  very  nice  dress. 

"I  can't  do  too  much  for  Abbie,"  she  would  say, 
"when  she  has  done  so  much  for  me.  I  don't  feel  as 
though  I  could  ever  get  along  without  her." 

Christmas  was  only  about  two  weeks  off,  and  all 
the  children  were  trying  to  be  "good  as  they  could  be," 
anticipating  the  presents  they  might  receive.  Willie  and 
Johnny  each  hoped  for  a  new  pair  of  skates,  and  possibly 
a  sled.  Ted  and  the  baby  were  too  little  to  expect  much 
of  anything,  but  the  other  children  were  saving  their 
pennies  and  nickels  to  buy  them  toys  —  and  poor 
Tildy  was  nursing  a  wish  that  she  dared  not  utter.  Her 
childish  heart  craved  a  new  set  of  furs,  a  boa  and  a  muff, 
like  Carrie  Baker  had,  but  she  felt  that  her  father  had 
recently  been  at  so  much  expense  that  he  was  not  able 
to  afford  them,  so  she  told  no  one  of  her  desire  except 
Miss  Abbie,  who,  like  Tildy,  hated  to  mention  the  matter 
to  Mrs.  Barnes,  knowing  that  she  would  feel  bad  to  deny 
the  child  who  so  richly  deserved  such  a  gift. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  63 

But  the  more  Miss  Abbie  pondered  it  in  her  mind, 
the  more  she  worried  about  it. 

Poor  little  Tildy  ought  to  have  her  heart's  desire. 
How  she  wished  she  had  money  to  buy  it.  There  wasn't 
a  better  child  in  all  the  town  than  Tildy.  She  had 
earned  the  furs  over  and  over  again,  but  the  fact  that 
she  had  earned  them  and  deserved  them  did  not  make 
her  father  able  to  buy  them. 

So  Miss  Abbie  pondered  on  the  subject  till  one  day 
when  Uncle  Joe  was  there,  and  Mrs.  Barnes  happened  to 
be  at  a  neighbor's  house,  she  confided  to  him  Tildy's  wish, 
and  expressed  her  own  great  desire  to  gratify  it. 

"I'll  buy  it,"  said  Mr.  Joe,  "and  you  can  go  up  and 
choose  it,  and  never  tell  who  done  it." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Joe,  if  you  only  could  afford  it !" 

"I  can,  and  will.  I'll  give  you  the  money  right  now. 
How  much  is  it?" 

"I'm  afraid  it's  too  much.  Carrie  Baker's  cost  seven 
dollars." 

He  drew  an  old,  greasy  purse  from  his  pocket, 
counted  out  the  money,  and  gave  it  to  her,  and  three 
dollars  besides,  "to  buy  yourself  a  present,"  said  he. 

"Oh,  I  can't!"  said  Miss  Abbie,  "ten  dollars  is  too 
much  for  me." 

"Well,  you'll  want  to  buy  presents  for  the  children." 

And  so  Miss  Abbie  was  very  happy  in  the  knowledge 
that  she  could  make  some  presents,  much  happier  than 
if  she  had  expected  a  present  herself. 

Uncle  Joe  lived  with  his  sister  Sarah  and  her  son 
Philip,  who  kept  a  little  grocery  store,  and  it  had  been 
lately  noised  abroad  that  Philip  was  going  to  get  mar 
ried.  At  least  a  neat  little  cottage  of  three  rooms  and 


64  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

ample  yard  had  been  bought,  and  was  being  gradually 
furnished  and  fitted  up  for  somebody  to  live  in. 

Philip  had  been  paying  attention  to  a  very  nice  girl 
for  two  years,  and  it  was  supposed  that  the  wedding 
would  take  place  about  Christmas. 

Uncle  Joe  made  himself  very  useful  about  the  new 
house,  putting  the  carpets  down  himself,  while  his  sister 
Sarah  and  Mrs.  Barnes  superintended.  It  was  only  about 
three  blocks  from  the  Barnes  residence,  and  Miss  Abbie 
would  occasionally  go  over,  followed  by  the  children, 
who  took  great  delight  in  the  new  premises. 

"I  wonder  if  they'll  buy  a  green  iron  bed  or  a  white 
one — which  do  you  think  would  be  the  prettiest,  Abbie  ?" 
.asked  Mrs.  Barnes  one  day. 

"I  like  white,  with  brass  knobs,  like  Mrs.  Howard's; 
they're  a  lot  prettier  than  the  green  ones." 

"I  expect  Philip's  girl  will  want  that  kind — there 
comes  Uncle  Joe  now,  with  a  new  overcoat  on.  Why, 
good  morning,  Uncle  Joe,  come  right  in." 

"I  come  to  see  if  you  could  go  to  town  with  me,  to 
help  me  buy  a  stove,  one  you  think  would  burn  good." 

"Yes,  I'll  be  glad  to  go,  as  soon  as  I  can  get  ready. 
How  do  you  like  the  looks  of  this  stove?"  pointing  to  the 
one  in  the  sitting  room. 

"Why,  it  looks  all  right.     Does  it  burn  good?" 

"Oh,  it's  a  splendid  stove,"  said  Miss  Abbie. 

"You  like  it,  do  you?  Well,  we'll  try  to  find  one 
like  it,"  said  he,  opening  the  door  for  Mrs.  Barnes  to 
pass  out,  that  lady  having  made  no  change  in  her  wear 
ing  apparel  except  to  don  a  dark  dress  skirt,  hat  and 
cloak. 

"You  look  mighty  fine  in  your  new  overcoat,"  said 
Mrs.  Barnes,  as  they  neared  the  gate. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  65 

"And  I'm  going  to  get  me  a  new  suit  of  clothes  for 
Christmas,"  said  he. 

About  one  block  from  home  they  met  Willie  and 
Teddy,  who  had  been  out  for  a  little  walk. 

"Let  me  go  to  town  with  you,"  cried  Willie,  "me  and 
Ted." 

"Do  you  mind  'em,  Uncle  Joe  ?" 

"No,  let  'em  come  along." 

So  Teddy  and  Willie  trotted  along  beside  them  till 
they  reached  the  hardware  store,  or  rather  a  big  store 
that  carried  general  merchandise. 

Mrs.  Barnes  stepped  in  and  was  soon  lost  to  every 
thing  else  in  examining  the  merits  of  the  different  stoves. 
Presently  she  heard  a  wail  from  Teddy. 

"Oh  !    Oh !    My  han,'  my  han' !" 

She  found  that  he  had  opened  and  closed  a  stove 
door  on  his  little  fat  hand,  making  a  long  red  mark. 
After  kissing  the  hand  and  scolding  the  child,  she  was 
turning  again  toward  the  salesman  when  she  discovered 
Willie  in  the  act  of  taking  the  ashpan  from  the  bottom 
of  a  coal  stove.' 

"Willie  Barnes,  what  do  you  mean?"  she  cried. 

"I  was  just  looking  how  it  was  made." 

"Let  it  alone  and  take  care  of  Teddy.  You  don't 
give  me  a  chance  to  see  anything." 

Again  she  turned  her  attention  toward  the  stoves. 
"This  looks  like  a  good  one,  Uncle  Joe.  It's  not  exactly 
like  ours,  but  very  near  it." 

As  Uncle  Joe  advanced  toward  the  stove  in  question, 
there  was  an  awful  clatter,  a  terrible  mingling  of  sound 
in  which  Teddy's  voice  was  uppermost.  He  had  run 
against  a  pile  of  loose  stove  pipes  and  knocked  them  over 
on  himself. 


66  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

"Whatever  made  me  bring  the  children?"  cried  Mrs. 
Barnes,  picking  Teddy  up  and  shaking  him,  partly  to  get 
the  dust  off  and  partly  in  motherly  wrath. 

Once  more  she  turned  her  attention  toward  the 
stove ;  the  salesman  who  was  extolling  its  virtues  at  a 
great  rate  to  Uncle  Joe,  now  addressed  her:  "Yes, 
ma'am,  this  stove  burns  less  coal  and  gives  out  more 
heat  than  any  other  stove  on  the  market." 

Mrs.  Barnes  was  on  the  point  of  speaking  when  she 
detected  Willie,  who  was  standing  near  her,  turning  on 
the  generator  of  a  gasoline  stove. 

"Don't  Willie,"  she  said  in  a  suppressed  voice, 
ashamed  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  salesman  after 
so  much  racket  from  the  children.  But  Willie,  either  deaf 
to  her  words,  or  willingly  disobedient,  preceded  to  turn 
on  another  burner,  and  so  the  odor  of  gasoline  was  be 
coming  apparent.  Dreading  to  call  out  and  cause  another 
scene,  Mrs.  Barnes  sided  over  toward  Willie,  saying  as 
she  did  so,  "Yes  sir,  I  think  it's  a  good  stove,  very  much 
like  mine."  Then  she  gave  her  recreant  son  a  good, 
long  pinch  in  the  back. 

"Oh,  oh!  What  you  pinching  me  for?"  exclaimed 
Willie,  leaping  about  three  feet  from  the  floor. 

Mrs.  Barnes,  not  expecting  this,  was  covered  with 
confusion.  Uncle  Joe  looked  around  in  wonder,  then 
realizing  the  situation,  laughed  outright.  The  salesman 
also  smiled. 

"He  was  turning  the  burners  on — and — and  I  had 
to  do  something,"  stammered  Mrs.  Barnes. 

"Yes,  I  put  some  gasoline  in  that  stove  yesterday, 
to  show  a  lady  how  it  worked,"  explained  the  clerk. 

Willie   hung  his  head   in   real   shame   for   his   dis- 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  67 

obedience,  and  little  Teddy,  in  mute  sympathy,  walked 
up  and  took  him  by  the  hand. 

"Did  you  say  you  wanted  this  stove,  ma'am  ?" 

"Yes,  no — you  decide,  Uncle  Joe.  The  children  have 
got  me  so  rattled  I  don't  know  anything." 

"Yes,  that's  the  stove.  Send  it  down  to  the  little 
new  house  next  to  Mrs.  Dale's." 

And  so  the  purchase  was  made. 

It  was  Christmas  Eve  night.  The  Barnes  children 
were  going  to  bed  early,  but  of  course  they  weren't  one 
bit  sleepy,  no  more  than  if  it  was  early  morning.  Their 
curiosity  was  too  much  roused  to  admit  of  drowsiness, 
and  yet  they  knew  that  old  Santa  Claus  would  never 
come  unless  they  were  all  sound  asleep.  Their  stockings 
were  hung  in  a  row  back  of  the  heating  stove.  There 
were  six,  like  little  stairsteps,  beginning  with  Tildy's  and 
ending  with  Helen's  baby  feet. 

Little  Minnie's  stocking  was  in  its  accustomed  place. 

"Ma,"  said  Tildy  that  night,  "I'm  going  to  hang  up 
one  of  Minnie's  stockings.  I  know  Santa'll  want  to  give 
her  something,  too." 

"Yes,"  said  her  mother  with  a  choke  in  her  voice, 
"hang  it  there." 

Miss  Abbie,  like  the  children,  had  gone  early  to  her 
room. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barnes  were  sitting  very  quietly  by 
the  stove;  the  hands  of  the  clock  pointed  to  ten. 

"I  wonder  if  the  children  are  asleep?"  said  she.  He 
held  out  his  hand  to  caution  her,  then  rose  from  his 
chair  and  peeped  over  at  the  sleeping  babe  in  their  own 
bed,  then,  followed  by  his  wife,  he  looked  at  Ted  sleep 
ing  in  his  crib  near  by.  Entering  the  adjoining  room, 


68  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

he  saw  Tildy  sleeping  alone  in  her  bed,  and  tenderly 
placed  his  hand  on  the  vacant  pillow  beside  her. 

On  another  white  cot  lay  Johnny  and  Willie.  "All 
asleep,"  he  whispered,  and  then  they  prepared  the  Christ 
mas  offering. 

Bringing  a  large  basket  from  the  kitchen,  the  stock 
ings  were  quickly  and  quietly  filled,  the  presents  labeled 
and  distributed.  Mrs.  Barnes  paused  a  good  while  at 
Minnie's  stocking,  her  husband  putting  his  arm  around 
her  in  silent  sympathy. 

At  last  they  sought  their  rest,  and  the  little  cottage, 
so  full  of  sleeping  life,  unuttered  hopes  and  tender  sor 
row,  was  still  and  silent  as  the  night. 

But  just  as  the  little  clock's  hands  crawled  around  to 
the  mark  of  twelve,  a  white  robed  figure  came  silently 
in  from  the  little  lean-to  bedroom  and  laid  a  good-sized 
package  at  Tildy's  place,  and  a  smaller  one  for  each  of 
the  others. 

Christmas  morning  dawned  bright  and  beautiful. 
The  sun  rose  over  a  snow-white  world.  Three  inches  of 
snow  had  fallen  during  the  night,  and  it  was  still  virgin 
and  untracked. 

Of  course  the  children  were  astir  with  the  dawn. 
First  one  little  head  popped  up  from  the  pillow  and 
called  "Christmas  gift!"  and  then  the  other  little  heads 
popped  up,  and  instantly  "Christmas  gift!"  was  echoing 
all  over  the  house. 

"Not  a  present  is  to  be  looked  at  until  you  get  your 
clothes  on,"  announced  Mrs.  Barnes  with  more  authority 
than  usual,  and  for  once  they  dressed  quickly;  there 
was  no  dwadling  over  stockings  and  shoe-buttons — the 
clothes  flew  on  like  magic. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  69 

Presently  they  were  comparing  presents  and  chat 
tering  like  magpies.  Exclamations  of  wonder  and  words 
of  joy  were  flying  from  mouth  to  mouth. 

"This  is  mine !"    "Oh,  isn't  it  lovely !" 

"Just  look  at  this !  "Here's  something  else !"  and 
so  on,  the  words  ran  around,  till  Tildy,  noticing  her  big 
package  for  the  first  time,  cried  out,  "What's  this?" 

A  moment  more  and  the  coveted  furs  were  lying  in 
her  lap. 

Oh,  look  ma,  it's  a  set  of  furs  like  Carrie  Baker's ! 
Oh,  I  never  expected  it!" 

"Nor  I,  either,"  said  Mrs.  Barnes,  looking  ques- 
tioningly  at  her  husband. 

"You  needn't  look  at  me.  I  didn't  give  'em  to  her," 
he  said. 

"Who  did  then?  Abbie,  who  do  you  suppose  gave 
Tildy  the  furs?" 

"How — how  do  I  know,  Mrs.  Barnes?"  It  was  so 
hard  for  Miss  Abbie  to  dissimulate  that  she  looked  guilty. 

"Abbie,  you  know  something  about  it.  I  know  you 
do — but  you  haven't  said  a  thing  about  your  present." 

"You  don't  mean  that  new  cloak  in  there  on  my 
bed  is  for  me?"  she  exclaimed. 

"Certainly  it's  for  you,  and  you're  to  ask  no  ques 
tions." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Barnes,  it  must  have  cost  a  good  deal. 
I  don't  understand." 

"You  don't  have  to  understand,  just  wear  it." 

Miss  Abbie  looked  the  cloak  over  and  over,  and  could 
hardly  believe  such  a  handsome  garment  was  her  own. 

"Ma,"  cried  Willie,  "guess  what's  in  Minnie's  stock- 
ing." 

"What  is  it,  child?" 


70  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

"It's  a  lily,  a  big  white  lily.  Looks  like  it  had 
growed  there  over  night." 

"It's  just  like  those  Mrs.  Howard  has  blooming  in 
her  window,"  observed  Johnny. 

"Do  you  reckon  Santa  put  it  there?"  asked  Willie. 

"Maybe  it  was  an  angel,"  said  Tildy,  and  the  chil 
dren  grew  quiet  for  a  moment,  lost  in  wonderment. 

"Do  your  skates  fit,  boys?"  asked  their  father,  as  he 
came  in  from  milking  an  hour  later. 

"Just  perfect.  I  don't  see  how  old  Santa  guessed 
the  size." 

"Lay  Helen's  doll  in  bed  with  her  so  she'll  see  it 
when  she  wakes.  It's  a  wonder  she  sleeps  in  all  this 
noise." 

"Just  listen  to  Teddy  beat  his  drum.  I  don't  'spose 
we  can  hear  ourselves  talk  all  day." 

And  so  the  fun  ran  on  while  Miss  Abbie  and  Mrs. 
Barnes  were  trying  to  get  breakfast. 

"Miss  Abbie,"  said  Mrs.  Barnes,  about  ten  o'clock 
that  day,  "I  didn't  tell  you  that  we  were  all  invited  over 
to  Philip's  new  house  to  eat  dinner  today.  I  wanted 
to  take  you  and  the  children  by  surprise." 

"Why,  is  he  already  married?" 

"Oh  no,  but  his  mother  is  just  going  to  have  a 
Christmas  dinner  there  as  a  sort  of  house-warming,  you 
know." 

"That'll  be  real  nice." 

"And  you  are  to  wear  the  new  dress  I  made  you  and 
your  new  cloak,  and  fix  up  your  best." 

"I'll  try  to,"  said  Miss  Abbie,  disappearing  into  her 
little  bedroom.  "I  don't  hardly  know  myself,"  she  mur 
mured  a  little  while  later,  as  she  put  her  hat  on  before 
the  glass. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  71 

Presently  they  were  all  down  to  the  new  house 
where  Philip's  mother  invited  them  in  and  Uncle  Joe 
came  forward  to  greet  them  in  a  brand  new  suit  of 
clothes,  his  face  shining  from  the  effects  of  soap  and 
water  and  happiness. 

The  table  was  already  laid,  and  all  the  furniture  was 
bright  and  new ;  the  stove  gave  forth  a  genial  warmth. 

"How  do  you  like  it  all?"  asked  Uncle  Joe,  looking 
at  Miss  Abbie. 

"Like  it — I  think  it's  a — a  the  happiest  place  in  the 
world." 

"You  do.  Would  you  like  to  live  in  a  little  house 
like  this — have  it  for  your  own?" 

"Indeed  I  would,  but  I'm  so  lorn  and  unlucky,"  add 
ing  quickly,  "where  is  Mr.  Philip — and  his — his  girl?" 

"They'll  be  here  pretty  soon,  and  the  preacher  too," 
said  Philip's  mother. 

"Oh,  is  it  going  to  be  a  wedding?" 

"I — I  guess  it  is.     We  want  a  double  wedding." 

Miss  Abbie,  much  bewildered,  stepped  into  the  other 
room  to  lay  her  cloak  and  hat  on  the  bed. 

"I — I'd  like  to  speak  to  you  a  moment,"  said  Uncle 
Joe,  coming  close  beside  her. 

And  then  he  began  to  talk  in  a  low  tone  and  Miss 
Abbie  stood  with  her  hands  clasped,  almost  holding  her 
breath  as  she  listened.  Uncle  Joe  had  always  been  called 
slow  of  speech,  but  now  his  tongue  flew,  his  words  came 
quick,  but  low. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Joe,  I  never  thought  of  it.  I'm  took  so 
sudden.  It's  such  a  surprise,  and  to  think  you  want  to 
marry  me — and  have  got  some  money — did  you  say  it 
was  out  of  some  mines?" 


72  THE  BARNES  FAMILY 

"Yes,  it  was  an  old  mine  I  put  some  money  in  a 
long  time  ago,  and  they  just  sold  it  and  sent  me  my 
share.  I  intend  to  go  into  the  grocery  business  with 
Philip." 

"And  this  house  is  yours?" 

"Yes,  mine,  and  yours  too,  if  you  want  it." 

"There  comes  the  preacher  and  Philip  and  his  girl," 
cried  Mrs.  Barnes,  coming  toward  them. 

"We'll  all  get  married  at  once,  if  you  say  so,"  said 
Uncle  Joe,  imploringly. 

But  Miss  Abbie  was  too  much  overcome  and  be 
wildered  to  say  anything,  so  Mrs.  Barnes  took  her  by 
the  arm,  led  her  into  the  other  room  and  stood  her  up 
by  Mr.  Joe,  Philip  and  his  sweetheart  standing  beside 
them. 

The  preacher  took  his  place  and  began  to  repeat  a 
simple  marriage  service.  When  he  came  to  the  words, 
"Abbie  Dobbs,  do  you  take  this  man  to  be  your  lawful 
husband?"  she  could  not  answer,  her  tongue  clove  to  the 
roof  of  her  mouth,  she  tried  to  nod  her  head  and  looked 
appealingly  toward  Mrs.  Barnes,  who,  always  ready  to 
help  a  friend  in  need,  loyally  answered,  "Yes." 

And  so  this  old,  obsolete,  neglected  couple  were 
joined  in  the  holy  bonds  of  matrimony,  to  comfort  and 
care  for  each  other,  to  walk  hand  in  hand  adown  the  hill 
of  life,  toward  the  setting  sun,  no  longer  alone,  no  longer 
unloved. 

Following  the  ceremony  was  a  great  feast,  to  which 
every  guest,  especially  the  Barnes  children,  did  ample 
justice. 

The  neighbors,  hearing  of  the  affair,  came  in  the 
afternoon  to  offer  congratulations  and  celebrate  the  oc 
casion. 


THE  BARNES  FAMILY  73 

"And  you  say  Miss  Abbie  never  suspected  anything 
of  this  until  today?"  asked  Mrs.  Howard  of  Mrs.  Barnes. 

"Not  a  thing.  She's  the  most  innocent  minded  mor 
tal  in  the  world  and  I  knew  she  never  could  get  married 
unless  I  took  the  matter  in  hand  and  arranged  it  all  for 
her.  She  couldn't  even  say  yes." 

"And  Philip  is  going  to  live  with  his  mother,  you 
say?" 

"Yes,  and  just  Miss  Abbie  and  Uncle  Joe  will  live 
here.  I  couldn't  bear  to  have  her  far  from  me.  The 
children  love  her  so  much." 

That  evening  when  all  the  guests  were  gone  except 
Mrs.  Barnes,  Miss  Abbie  stood  by  her  husband's  chair, 
and  putting  her  hand  timidly  on  his  old  gray  head,  said : 

"I  don't  deserve  all  this — and  to  think  I  used  to  call 
myself  lone  and  lorn  and  unlucky." 

THE  END 


Failure  is  the  stepping  stone  on  which  we  climb 
To  other  efforts — higher  all  the  time. 
Defeat  is  but  the  ground-work,  lowly  laid, 
On  which  the  edifice,  Success,  is  made. 


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